Shadow and Light, Book 1: A Spark of Light
by Glrasshopper
Summary: As the sun begins its descent, a darkness begins to stir. The only thing that could possibly stand in its way: a little spark of light which is only just learning to shine.
1. Of the Shadow and the Light

**Chronicles of Shadow and Light**

**Book 1: A Spark of Light**

**Disclaimer:**

Leesin very carefully, I shall zay this only wonce... (Michelle Dubois, 'Allo 'Allo)

The various stories and characters of Harry Potter series and The Lord of the Rings series belong to J. K. Rowling and J. R. R. Tolkien and their respective publishers and copyright holders. This is but a work of fan-fiction which borrows the characters, places, events and dialogue from these published stories in the spirit and name of fan-fiction.

In no way is profit the intention of the story that follows. Throughout the story, real names, places and events may be used to tie the story into real-life, or characters may appear which resemble real people. These are being used in a fictional sense and in no way are the events, places or characterisations to be taken as fact. Some facts and dates have been altered for the purpose of the story (these "mistakes" are _intentional_)

Some dialogue will be transcribed from the HP and LotR stories. That which has been transcribed is not mine and should not be considered mine.

It is likely that this story will generate some anger in certain readers due to its take on religion. I would like to point out, now, to all those who are likely to be vocal about this: it is all but impossible to combine HP, LotR and real-life, without distorting facts and beliefs. Deal with it.

* * *

**Introduction – Of the Shadow and the Light**

History; it is such a fascinating word. Ask twenty people what it means and you are likely to get twenty different answers. Yet, even though it is surrounded by such ambiguity, we are still told that we should study it as much as possible, if we wish to avoid making the same mistakes, over and over again. History, as we are told, is forever bound to repeat itself.

While some people may have trouble comprehending such a statement, mankind has in fact long believed this to be true. Confucius himself said that one should "_Study the past, if you would divine the future"_. Nowadays, in modern civilisation, there are even people who do _nothing but_ study the past. Though even with this dedication, there are limits to what we are capable of. Mankind is but a mortal race and thus suffers from what all mortals suffer from: time... time and death.

As the years go by, fading into history, more and more of the past falls into legend, legend into myth, and myth into fantasy. Who then is able to "divine the future" if the past has long since been lost to time?

Who is left to study the times of the great flood, of the raining of fire, or of a world covered in ice? Who, when all has fallen into both legend and myth? Who is left to warn the parents when the bogeyman reaches out to claim their innocent child?

Who else could possibly do such a thing, but one who hasn't forgotten.

Many people these days no longer believe in a supreme deity, creationism, or even divine intervention. Even if it weren't so, there are now so many religions and beliefs in the world that many do not know which way to turn. Were we really created in the image of God, or were we born out of Gaia herself? Did Māui really fish up an Island? And just how do you catch the sun with naught but a fishing net?

In ancient times, the Babylonians believed that mortal life was born out of the conflict between Order and Chaos, personified in the beings Apsu and Tiamat. It was seen as eternal conflict, eternal struggle; the continuing war between "Good" and "Evil".

To an immortal god, to a being that doesn't suffer from time or death, this struggle may appear to be no greater than a simple pendulum, swinging back and forth. Tick, it is day. Tock, there is war. Tick, good prevails. Tock, a kingdom falls. Always ticking, always tocking, in the continual struggle to achieve perfect balance with itself.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock... Tock... Tock...

Sit back, make yourself comfortable, and allow me to tell you a story. A story of what happens when history falls past legend and myth, and even past fantasy itself. A story of when there remains no Man whom can remember the face of the bogeyman, and no Man whom can name the fallen Heroes. A story of a pendulum that tocked when it should of ticked. A story of what happens when the conflict between Order and Chaos becomes unbalanced.

It is a story of war and conflict, of heroes and villains, of rediscovered truths and uncovered lies. And, it is a story of how just one person can alter the course of the very universe itself.

It is a story of the _Shadow_ and the _Light._


	2. Why People Feared Samhain Eve

**Chapter 1 – Why People Feared Samhain Eve**

_There was once a time, long ago, when people feared the eve of Samhain. It was a time when the barriers between the worlds would be at their weakest and, with the right magic (used at the right time, in the right fashion), these barriers could be shattered, allowing for unspeakable evils to be unleashed upon the mortal world._

_Thankfully, those knowledgeable enough in such magic fell, long ago, into myth and legend themselves. The knowledge waiting to be forgotten the same way as many other things were also forgotten._

_Yet, a lesson can be learned here. A lesson which teaches us that even though the knowledge of how something is done may have been long since passed, the ability to unwittingly accomplish such a task will always be present._

~oOo~

H, minus ten years...

In a dark corner of a sleepy village that was nestled away in an almost forgotten corner of Wales, an unusual noise broke through the night. For the safety of the children running around this Halloween night, all things holy can be praised for the only thing that heard the mysterious _Whoosh_ of air being forcibly displaced was a stray alley cat.

You see, the being that was responsible for this strange noise was a being that struck fear into many of Britain's population. At first glance, one would pass him off as merely a pale-looking (yet rather average) man, even with the long black cloak he wore. Yet a closer look would show a man of power, one who demanded respect and gave no mercy.

Unlucky people, who looked even closer, would remember one disturbingly distinguishing feature for the rest of their lives. Cold, heartless eyes that appeared to glow blood-red would often be the last thing they saw before their world flashed a brilliant green and everything faded to black.

The Dark Lord Voldemort stepped out of the small alley, pulling the cowl of his robe lower over his face as he surveyed the sight before him. Children dressed as oversized pumpkins and fairies were running around the area. It was a sight that would be seen as comforting to many; but to the Dark Lord Voldemort, it caused him to sneer. To him, these were nothing more than the children of mongrels, people that would soon learn their proper place in society. His dark thoughts were soon shattered though, as one of the small children had finally noticed him.

"Hey Mister, nice costume!" The boy called out before cocking his head in confusion. "What're you supposed to be?"

Momentarily startled by the bravery (or perhaps deadly ignorance) of the small boy, Voldemort turned and examined the child who dressed in an odd arrangement of black cloth and... 'plastic', if he remembered the name correctly. It looked like he carried a toy weapon, a cylindrical red plastic sword. A decidedly muggle thing that had no life, no _feel_ to it. Not that such a weapon could ever dissuade him from his goal this night.

Allowing a burst of power to flow though his voice and a slight aura of malevolence to seep out of his skin, he stared into the boy's eyes and hissed his reply. His voice was so distorted one could easily mistake it for the sound of dead leaves being swept across stone.

"I am merely a man who is looking for a small boy to kill tonight. One who would be a fitting sacrifice to both my power and my greatness."

The acrid smell which was the mixture of fear and urine, followed immediately by a running child, let him know that he had been successful. A small grin crept onto his face. Perhaps Bellatrix was right after all, he mused. She had always said that playing with little children was fun.

Turning back towards the road before him, he strolled out into the night, absently rubbing something through his cloak, something that sat right over his heart. He was on a mission tonight, one that he didn't trust anyone with but himself. To think that they had the _nerve_ to protect each other with complementing Fidelius charms.

Their trust in their friends would be their undoing.

~oOo~

Little Harry sat mesmerised. His Dada was doing it again; bright colourful clouds were flying around the room. There were clouds in the shape of all kinds of objects and animals, even one shaped like an old fashioned sailing ship.

After a brilliant feat of aerial acrobatics by none other than a flying, purple Padfoot, little Harry could only do what any fourteen month-old child could. Merrily squealing and clapping he called out one of the few words he had learned and understood.

"More!"

"Alright champ, how about this one?" James laughed as, with a swish and a swash of his wand, the clouds burst in a shower of coloured sparkles that began dancing around Harry, making him squeal happily once more.

"What are you doing James?" whispered a voice that was cool enough to make him cringe. Turning around slowly he saw the very noticeable signs of a _very_ angry wife.

"Uh... father-son bonding?" he tried as the sparkles started to flicker out.

"Huh... You know, I clearly remember asking you ten minutes ago to get Harry ready for bed and here I see you getting him all worked up and excited. Do I need to start disciplining you like we do Harry?"

He was caught and he knew it. James may have been the one to wear the trousers in the household but (as he had learned years ago) one should never cross Lily Potter, nee Evans.

He stood there for a few seconds, fervently trying to come up with a way out of this situation. It was a skill that he had perfected over his years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he and his friends had been called upon numerous times to answer for many questionable deeds that had been conducted around the school.

He was just about to reply to his wife's question when he saw it. A twitch at the corner of his wife's mouth, belying her displeasure with the caution to the wind, he plastered a crooked grin upon his face (one that would always weaken her resolve), and dove head-first into the challenge.

"You know, Lily, the more we tire him out, the more he's likely to sleep though _loud_ noises." he said with a little waggle of his eyebrows.

Holding the grin, he attempted to stare down his wife. She would cave, he knew she would; she was never a good liar.

Unable to hold his stare any longer, Lily finally broke into a fit of giggles and wrapped her husband into a hug. Harry, not understanding what was happening (other than knowing that the sparkles had disappeared), decided he didn't like having fun-time ending so quickly.

"Dada, more?" he called, causing them to break apart and look down to him.

Lily managed to interrupt James, as his mouth started to open. "Na-uh, it's time you got ready for bed, Little Man, while Daddy here cleans up all the mess he made."

She scooped Harry up off of the floor and carried him out of the room and up the stairs. James could hear her loudly explaining to Harry about how they would have to spend the next few days teaching his father how to put the toys away.

With an indignant huff, James took one look at the results of his little "father-son bonding" and decided that maybe a nice cuppa would be much better than manual labour. So, with a flick of his wand, the living room began to set itself right.

"Marauders _always_ put their toys away,"he grumbled to himself as he headed in the direction of the kitchen to put the kettle on.

~oOo~

Voldemort turned the corner of the street and began examining the letter-boxes as he walked by. Coming to a stop outside of number ten, he stopped and gazed at the small cottage before him. He had no way of telling whether the people within were the ones he sought, or even if there _were_ people within... well, that wasn't entirely true. His spy had discovered a way round the Fidelius charm, all he had had to do was to concentrate on... concentrate on the... on... on the... concentrate on... _concentrate_?

The Dark Lord scowled as he wracked his memory for what it was that he had been thinking about. This had been happening with increasing regularity, these past few days. It was almost as though there was something at work here that was separate from the Fidelius charm. There was _something _about the charm though... The charm itself, perhaps? No, that wasn't it. Voldemort's eyes lit up with realisation. The secret! The secret didn't cover the child. _That_ was it!

Voldemort growled to himself at this latest slip in concentration and murmured to himself the one sentence that was the key to it all. "Harry Potter lives at Number 10, Sparrow Lane, Godric's Hollow."

Confident that he could once again hold his destination in mind, he glanced back at the cottage with a smirk forming on his face. They really should have been more careful when picking their secret. That way they wouldn't have forgotten to hide their unborn child as well.

The Fidelius charm, however powerful, was not without its weaknesses. He had shaken his head in disbelief when he had first discovered how simple it would be to collapse one. A simple ward was all it took. Well, okay, maybe it wasn't a _simple_ ward. But when one had followers deep within the Department of Mysteries, one had access to magic that few people had even heard of.

Shaking his head at the carelessness of the likely occupants, Voldemort put his hand into a pocket and withdrew four golf-ball sized tetrahedrons, each surface of which was decorated with tiny, pentagonally arranged, runic words. To think; the so-called mighty Fidelius could be brought down by such small things...

He would have preferred to use these stones at his ultimate destination, because this was the only set that existed for the moment. However, there had been no headway in countering the Fidelius surrounding his actual target and there was no more time to create another set. He knew perfectly well _where_ the child was; he was in his grandmother's home. It was just that nobody knew where exactly that particular home was. However, _that_ would be remedied in just a few moments.

With a mere flicker of a thought, the four stones flew out of his hand and began burrowing into the base of the house; one into each of its four corners. Confident that the Fidelius was already beginning to collapse and that there was now no escape for his current target, he approached the door and raised his hand to knock, only to falter before his hand could begin to fall.

Quickly, he dropped a hand to his chest in such a fashion that a passing muggle may have thought that he was having a heart attack. He had no such ailment, however. No, the most feared wizard in recent history was not having a heart attack, but was rapidly growing concerned about a peculiar sensation that he had felt ripple out from a powerful trinket that he wore.

Of all his prized possessions, the only one that he carried with him (aside from his wand) was the Amulet of Baal. Said to be forged by the very same wizard who had developed the Killing Curse all those centuries ago, it was a powerfully dark item that had been sought by many. Voldemort had been the one to find it though, while travelling in Eastern Europe as a young man. Of all the places that it could have been found, he had located it in a muggle pawn shop.

No matter how he had come across it, it had proven to be a most spectacular discovery, as with it he had discovered that he was able to undermine the authority of the one of the Ministry's most useful creations. How exactly it worked, he still couldn't divine. However, that wasn't something that he was concerned about it at the moment. If people chose to believe that he was simply too powerful to succumb to the presence of dementors, then who was he to argue with them?

Shaking his head slightly, he shook off the odd sensation. It would be something he would have to investigate later, as he had come too far to stop now. With that in mind, he raised his hand once more and knocked loudly on the front door. He may be the mighty Dark Lord Voldemort, but even he liked to surprise people from time to time.

It was a shame really, because if he had spent but a moment longer pondering that odd sensation, he would have realised that the feeling was one that he used to experience a lot, when he was a small child: trepidation. Something bad was about happen and he had forgotten how that same feeling had saved him, countless times, before he had discovered magic.

~oOo~

"Dammit!" James cursed as he jumped back from the cup of hot tea he had just dropped, trying not to burn himself. It was a small side effect, he would say, of being startled out of one's skin while trying to drink.

Lily had been edgy for most of the day after another one of her nightmares, which of course meant that he had been getting jittery as well. A thought flashed across his mind at his wife's odd dreams; they started happening when she had first became pregnant. Perhaps... just perhaps...

Grinning to himself, at the thought of gaining a second sprog, he sent a cloth off to clean up the mess while he moved towards the door. Without conscious effort, he ignored that little niggling feeling in the back of his mind that was telling him that maybe, just maybe, his wife was correct.

"I swear Padfoot, if this isn't serious you are _so_ getting your arse kicked!" he called out as he approached the door. "And no name jokes!" he added as an afterthought.

Looking though the peep-hole made all thoughts of his best friend flee from his mind. Standing on his front doorstep was the last person that he had ever expected to see on this side of the Fidelius charm.

It took a few moments for the realisation of their friend's betrayal to sink in, but when it did his inner Gryffindor couldn't help but let out a predatory growl. His blood began to pound in his ears and he knew only one thought, he was a Lion and his Pride was in danger, his _Cub_ was in danger. Nobody harmed his Pride while this Lion still stood!

Taking several hasty paces back from the door, at an angle, he steeled himself then roared as loud as he could while taking aim at the door.

"Lily! Take Harry and _run_!"

He had barely managed to yell it all out before the front door came flying into the house with a resounding crash.

~oOo~

Voldemort had heard the small crash of falling crockery and the cursing from the direction of where he was told would be the kitchen and he smirked to himself; the Fidelius had fallen. He had to fight a full-blown grin as he thought of how much fun he was having so far, and the main event had yet to even start.

Pulling his emotions into check, he waited until he noticed the blood-traitor start yelling.

"You didn't expect _me_, did you, you fool," he murmured to himself as he raised his wand. "No one will run tonight" he snarled as he cast a silent bludgeoning hex, sending the door flying down the hallway.

Before he could enter, he was forced to dodge quickly, when a bright orange spell came flying back towards his head. He knew that James Potter was an adequate dueller, one of the better ones from Dumbledore's pitiful band. Yet he also knew that he himself was much, much better than the deluded fool that now stood in his way. A fool who would be dying very, very shortly.

Easily sliding into a duelling stance Voldemort advanced and the first fight of the night began in earnest.

~oOo~

When the various aurors and other assorted magical law officials would arrive on the scene, in the wee hours of the following morning, each one would stop briefly to survey the damage around the front entrance and each one would envision the fight that had happened here.

They would follow the trails of scorch marks and general damage laying around the area. The scattered remnants of a transfigured army of furniture could be seen splattered with blood. The shattered doorway that was noticeable from the outside. The burnt carpet and broken banister on the stairs. Even the great gaping holes in the inner walls told a story.

Each one would be able to tell that this wasn't the work of a fellow junior auror, or the work or a talented dueller, or even the work of a skilled transfigurer. No, this was the work of a man who had been willing to single-handedly fight the very demons of Hell in order to keep his family safe.

Having an idea of what awaited them upstairs only made the mourning of a fallen comrade all the more painful for them. The realisation dawning upon each of them, that he had well and truly given his all for his loved ones; all the while knowing (with a certainty) that he would never get to see them again.

~oOo~

Lily had been feeling edgy all day. It hadn't helped that she had started the day awakening from the same reoccurring dream that she had been having ever since becoming pregnant with Harry.

She had always thought divination to be a load of rubbish. A side effect, she guessed, from spending too much time with McGonagall as her mentor. Even so, there was just something about these dreams that unnerved her. There was always darkness, always shadows, always running, always terrified and never able to find him... never able to find her son.

She had tried to hide from Dumbledore's prophecy. She had thought that they had outsmarted him; that the ignorance of the magical populace would keep them safe. But, as soon as they were told that Voldemort was looking for her, for her secret, she had known that she couldn't stop it. The Darkness would discover her baby... and she would never see him again.

Her greatest hope, at this point, was that he would somehow survive to grow old and have a full life. Even if she couldn't be there to see it happen.

An inquisitive plea from Harry broke her from her morbid thoughts and she disentangled herself from her husband to scoop up her pride and joy.

"Na uh," she said, more to husband than her son. "It's time you got ready for bed, Little Man, while Daddy here cleans up all the mess he made."

As she walked out the door and made for the stairs, she couldn't help but put in an extra bit of ribbing. The amount of time she spent around the Marauders showed itself by making sure to speak loud enough for James to hear.

"You know Harry, I think we are going to have to sit your father down and show him how to pick up his toys, like a good boy. Just like you do," she said as she bounced Harry in her arms and earning her self a small chuckle from her bundle of joy.

Said laugh didn't last and it quickly turned into a fully-fledged yarn. "Oh, you are a tired one, aren't you? Here we are, one Harry-sized bed." she commented as she gently lay Harry down in his crib.

She couldn't help but stare at him at that point, something maternal firing deep within that she didn't want to fight. With a flick of her wand, his birdie mobile started spinning and playing its hauntingly beautiful music. Starting to hum along with the tune, she contemplated her son's long-held fascination with it. Her contemplation was quickly broken by a loud knocking upon the front door, causing her to turn towards the sound. Glancing back to Harry, she could tell he wasn't too pleased at being disturbed from his dozing so set about lulling him back to sleep.

"Lily! Take Harry and _run_!"

In that instant, time stopped for Lily Potter. All of her fears of loosing her son instantly jumped to the forefront of her mind. She never noticed the door being blasted off its hinges, or her son complaining about her husband's yelling. It wasn't until the sounds of fighting broke out in earnest, that the need to protect Harry overrode her frozen body and she sprung into action.

Grabbing Harry, she flicked her wand at the door, closing it and securing it with a squelch. Harry was still too young to portkey safely (let alone allowed to be apparated) and the only floo capable fireplace was downstairs, past whomever James was fighting. She wasn't much of a dueller herself, so didn't want to risk that option.

Hoping against hope that Harry would be okay with a short distance apparation, she glanced out the nursery window and saw that the street was clear. Holding Harry tightly she spun on the spot only for both of them to cry out in sudden pain.

Under normal circumstances, trying to disapparate though an anti-disapparation ward was an unpleasant experience, trying to side-along someone (even a small child), made it down-right painful. Whomever it was, they didn't want anybody running.

"Dammit!" she cursed, as she tried to catch her breath.

Trying for a more simplistic approach, Lily moved towards the window, all the while cringing against the sound of Harry wailing in her ear. Throwing the latch, she pushed on the large window to open it outwards. However, she soon found that it wouldn't budge any more than the door she had just sealed. Taking a few steps back, she quickly conjured a heavy brick before rapidly banishing it towards the window only to watch with rising panic as the brick bounced harmlessly off the undamaged glass.

Whomever it was that her husband was fighting _definitely_ didn't want anybody running.

She soon discovered who it was, when she heard a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her short life; two of the three most feared words in the magical world being yelled, by the voice belonging to the third. It was followed closely by a sound that could only be her beloved James, the other half of her very being, falling to the floor with a sickening wet sound. A sound one would normally only hear when dropping a piece of raw meat upon the kitchen bench.

No one could withstand the killing curse, and her husband was now its latest victim.

"This is it, Harry," she murmured as she tried to choke back her tears. "This is it."

Swallowing thickly, she flashed a teary, false smile towards her still crying son. "Come on, Little Man. How about we find somewhere to hide you while Mummy takes care of the big bad monster, huh?"

Glancing quickly around the room, she spied a small cabinet sitting in the corner of the room. The one where she normally kept Harry's spare nappies. Rushing over to the cabinet she quickly vanished the shelves and their contents before placing Harry inside. Cursing at the fact that Harry wouldn't quieten down, she quickly cast a Muffliato on the inside of the cabinet and sent a silent thank-you to her old friend, for teaching her that spell.

Closing the door and securing it with another locking charm, she turned towards the door just in time to see it being blasted off its hinges.

~oOo~

As he toed the body of his latest victory, Voldemort couldn't help by ponder the shame in having to end the life of such a strong wizard. Even though the man wasn't a _true_ pure-blood (at least as far as he was concerned), the man had proven to have had more potential than many of his own inner circle.

He shook his head sadly at the broken body before him, too many had had to die, too many. It would be over soon, though. Soon, the magical population of the world would ascend to the their rightful place in society. He had already succeeded where others had failed and he would do so again. He was Salazar's heir. He was Lord Voldemort. He was a god amongst mortals.

Taking a breath, to clear his thoughts, he stepped over the man that he had once hoped would join him. The guardian was defeated, now the map to his prize awaited. The child's last real protection would fall this night, right there, at the top of these stairs.

With a slight frown, he paused upon the base of the stairs and raised a hand to his medallion once more. It is doing it again. Whatever it was, Voldemort was rapidly beginning to dislike the sensation.

He removed the medallion from under his cloak to examine it. The black, glassy, obsidian disc, through which no known light could escape, was as flawless as ever as it sat in his pale hand. The fine golden chain was also as perfect as it had ever been.

With his frown deepening, he allowed the medallion to fall from his hand, the weight of it around his neck giving comfort to his rising unease. As soon as he had completed his errands tonight, he would have to seclude himself for a while, while he determined just what was happening with his medallion.

Continuing up the stairs, he made for a door that was covered in colourful images; the nursery. Laying a hand against the wood, he couldn't help the sinister grin that appeared on his face.

"She locked the door. How... _quaint_."

A locked door certainly wasn't going to stop him and with a casual flick of his bone-white wand the door flew off its hinges. A significantly more pronounced flick caught the incoming stunning spell and sent it careening down the stairwell. There were times like these when he wished that he didn't try to be an honourable wizard, as anyone who was foolish enough to think they could simply _stun_ Lord Voldemort deserved to be punished in the most humiliating way imaginable.

But no, he had promised her as a prize for his spy and he kept his promises. He would not damage her... much.

Sidestepping the bright orange magical pulse that could only be a bone breaking hex, he aimed his wand and fired off a succession of bludgeoning hexes towards her legs. She managed to block one of them and jump clear of two more, but the fourth one hit her on her right knee, shattering her kneecap and sending her tumbling to the floor in agony.

"Lily, Lily, Lily... I am not here to kill you. You know what it is I seek," he chided as he summoned her fallen wand to him. Prizes didn't deserve such items.

His words seemed to cut through her pain, and she glared at him in anger. "I'd rather die," she growled.

"Neither you, nor you friends have to die this night. There is only one that-"

Voldemort's reply was cut off and he blinked in surprise when the wand which he had just captured flew out of his hand and back towards its owner. Wandless magic was nothing new to any decent witch or wizard but, surprisingly enough, this was the first time that he could remember being bested by a simple piece of wandless summoning. Now he knew why his spy had asked for such a prize; this woman had fire in her.

His introspection was cut short when he felt a piercing pain shoot though his left arm, reminding him that even the weak can still get lucky. Hazarding a glance, he saw a good chunk of his left biceps beginning to melt off of his arm. Freezing the curse with a flick of his wand, he regarded his opponent with a new sense of respect as she rose unsteadily, favouring her uninjured leg. Until now, only Moody and Dumbledore had dared to use his own art-form against him. Although, grudging respect aside, something told him that his arm wasn't what she had been aiming at.

Hardening his gaze, he conjured up a floating bronze shield in time to absorb her next curse. The shield didn't survive long and quickly fell to the floor as little more than shredded metal. In sudden shock and anger, Voldemort forcefully banished her into the wall. He wasn't shocked by the power behind her curse; he was shocked for the simple reason that she _knew_ the curse. One which he had believed only his Death Eaters had known.

It was curse offered to him by one of his low-ranking Death Eaters, whom had apparently created it. The young Death Eater had sworn that he had never taught it to any other living soul. If she hadn't been taught before then, then she had to have been taught after.

Suddenly, there were two pieces of priceless information to collect from this woman. He had a spy in his midst.

"Who taught you that curse?" he growled at her as he angrily sent a blasting hex towards her fallen wand.

The woman didn't offer any answer, but did scream in pain when her wand exploded just as she was wrapping her fingers around it.

"Who taught you that curse?" he asked again.

Again, no answer as she cradled her mangled fingers, but he did detect a flicker of worry cross her face. She was hiding something. His spy would now have to pray that she told him what she wanted. Either that, or that they were very, _very_ well versed in the healing arts.

Brandishing his wand, he gave it a forceful jab, conjuring a flying spike of pure silver. Said spike pieced the woman's left shoulder with enough force to drive it through her shoulder and into the wall behind her.

The woman screamed once more and her head flew back. Taking advantage of finally being able to see her eyes clearly, Voldemort brutally ripped into her mind, only to be momentarily stumped by what he saw. She wasn't trying to protect a spy... she was trying to protect her son.

The Dark Lord Voldemort grinned.

~oOo~

Lily couldn't help but feel violated as she felt the invading presence leave her mind. She was also confused about Voldemort's sudden interest in the curse she had used. It was one that she had seen the results of numerous times and had learnt it upon seeing a Death Eater cast it upon the family of one of the squibs that had been helping The Order. Curiously enough, the Death Eater had fled upon seeing her standing there, defenceless, as she stared in shock at the results of the curse.

All thoughts and confusion fled her though, when she saw Voldemort make his way over to a certain cabinet which sat in the corner of the room.

Harry!

With as much effort as she could, she gritted her teeth and pulled on the spike pinning her to the wall. It was awkward as she wasn't able to use her (now ruined) right hand, but her adrenalin filled veins allowed her make a quick job of it without succumbing to the pain that was currently burning throughout her body.

Using the wall for support, she hauled herself up, while Voldemort crouched down at the cabinet that she had cast the Muffliato charm upon. Praying that her damaged leg would hold her, she hobbled as quietly as she could towards Voldemort. She needn't have been concerned about any noises, as her son's terrified cries were soon exposed to the room.

Grinding her teeth at the agony that shot through her with each step, she raised the spike in her good hand and lunged at the Dark Lord's back.

It was no use.

Voldemort had known of her approach and had spun around just in time to banish her backwards, once more. This time he didn't allow her to hit the wall, but left her hanging in mid-air, suspended by her outstretched arms in a sick mockery of a crucifixion.

"Tut-tut-tut," Voldemort chuckled over her son's cries as said child struggled to free himself from the grasp Voldemort had on the back of his pyjamas. "Where is the vaunted Gryffindor bravery? Attacking someone while their back is turned; how... _cowardly_ of you."

Lily felt rage boil within her. Despite the flaring pain, she struggled to wriggle free of the invisible bonds which held her in the air.

"It is pointless to struggle, My Dear. You cannot free yourself. Well... there is _one_ thing you can do, to be granted your freedom," Voldemort paused to catch her eyes in a cold stare. "Tell me what I want to know," he demanded.

"I'll never betray my friends," she rasped in anger before she took advantage of his current position and spat at his face.

Half of her had expected Voldemort to strike her for her insult, the other half expected to be cursed. She didn't however expect to see Voldemort wipe her spittle from his face and lick it off of his finger like it was the most sensual offering that she could have given him. It was a sight that made bile rise in her throat.

"Oh, I think you will tell me _everything_ I want to know," the Dark Lord whispered sadistically, sending a shiver down her spine. "_Crucio!_"

It took Lily a few seconds to realise that, while she was screaming, she wasn't actually screaming in pain. It took only a fraction of a second longer to realise that her son was no longer crying in fear, but was now wailing in agony.

"_HARRY!_"

Voldemort lifted his curse and turned back to Lilly. "You know what you have to do to stop this," he said calmly.

She opened her mouth instantly, but a portion of her mind, one that held undying loyalty to her friends stilled her tongue before she could say anything that she would regret.

"No? _Crucio!_"

"NO! _Please! _Have mercy, torture _me_."

Voldemort lifted the curse once more.

"Mercy? I _am_ an honourable man, you know," he enounced clearly. "All you have to do is tell me what I want to know."

Lily was torn. She knew that whatever she decided this night, she would not survive to see the sun rise. She also knew that her son's life depended on her decision, along with that of her closest friend, who had placed her life, and the life of her family, into Lily's hands.

"Oh well... _Crucio!_"

She was screaming again, in a sick harmony with her baby boy. Where was The Order? Where was Dumbledore? Where was -

"_When the time comes, Child, call for help. It _will_ be there"_

The words of that crazy old man, the one who attacked her in Diagon Alley, cut through her anguish. Was that really two years ago now? Why was it that she could still remember his voice? Whatever the reason, her screams quickly became pleas. Pleas that she knew nobody would be able to hear because of the Fidelius charm.

The pain in her shoulders was almost unbearable and it was getting harder and harder to breath, with her arms held up the way they were, let alone call for help. Even so, she couldn't help but believe that this was her only chance. Drawing in as much air as she could, she opened her mouth, one more time.

"Help! Please, for the love of God. WHOEVER YOU ARE... HEEELLLP!"

With all the screaming that was occurring within the room, nobody noticed the odd reverberation that that rippled through the air.

They did, however, notice the sound caused by the only window in the room shattering.

~oOo~

Voldemort was on a high; he hadn't felt this alive for years. Bellatrix had definitely been correct about playing with the kids. He had to be careful though. The brat was useless to him dead. It had been one of Bellatrix's ambitions to torture someone to death via Cruciatus, not his. There was a brief flicker of a thought that passed though his head as he lifted the curse to give the woman chance to speak; perhaps he should start reigning Bellatrix in a bit, before she got out of control.

He felt his irritation rise. The woman _still_ wasn't cooperating.

"Oh well... _Crucio!_"

The pure power that surged though him,as he tortured the toddler, and through him the mother, made his blood tingle and a warm feeling pulsate in his chest... just beneath his amulet. Voldemort frowned slightly in confusion, and was just about to break off the curse when the sound of braking glass made him turn towards the only window in the room.

To his shock, a small flock of birds had broken though the the glass. He just had enough time to make a mental note to express his displeasure in Rookwood (who had only been able to make the wards one way) when an _unbelievably_ sharp pain shot through his wand arm as it was wrenched to the side by a large white owl. The owl had been travelling at such a speed that the bird's talons were soon forcibly ripped from his arm when it would no long swing in the direct that the bird wanted. It was a rather significant inconvenience for Voldemort that the owl succeeded in tearing off rather large chunks of flesh in the process.

With a strangled grunt of pain, Voldemort sent a hasty wandless banishing charm towards the birds that were trying to attack his face and summoned his wand to his off-hand. A few quick fire hexes and the floor was soon littered with crispy owls, pigeons, starlings and the lone falcon which he assumed had been responsible for 'opening' the window.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had seen many strange and unusual things in his fifty odd years of being a wizard. He had even been involved a fair number of them himself. From the nearly harmless ability to project oneself from one side of the country to the other, all the way though to tearing his own soul in twain, whilst walking the path towards immortality. But seeing a flock of birds come crashing though a heavily warded window, with the apparent singular mindset of stopping him from harming a child: that was _definitely_ something new.

Looking over the injuries he had gained, he felt something; something he thought he would never feel again. He cast a furtive look at the boy on the floor, framed in the moonlight reflecting off the floor, as the child started to slowly crawl away from him. Voldemort may not have understood what had happened, but he did know one thing; there was now another emotion that pulsated though him, centred around his prized medallion. One he recognised intimately: Terror.

It was an emotion that he had not experienced directly since the time before he had discovered that he could make the other children hurt, simply by willing it. But why was his medallion making him feel this way? Or was it that _he_ was terrified but trying to rationalise it as being caused by the medallion? But what was there to be terrified of? Of the mother? Of this child? A child who apparently could still function after being submitted to a lengthy Cruciatus Curse?

Voldemort took a hurried step away from the child and lifted his wand. _No_. There was _no way_ that such a young child should be still cognisant enough to move this soon after that curse. Unless... Could it be that he had it _wrong_? That the Longbottom boy _wasn't_ the one; that _this_ child was the child of the prophecy, the only one that had the power to stop him...

But, _how_? The boy in front of him wasn't even born in the correct month!

He didn't know how long he stood there staring at the boy, but he was broken out of his stupor by a voice that was filled with an overwhelming terror. A voice that screamed within his mind, ordering him to action.

_~KILL HIM! KILL HIM! NOW!~_

And follow the order he did. Doing his best to reign in the turmoil of emotions that were coursing though him, he aimed his wand and called forth all the hatred and anger that he could muster.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" He roared, pushing all the will he could spare though his wand, while the sound of rushing wind filled the air; the sound of Death's scythe racing to claim another victim. He had already let his confidence get the better of him once this night and he wouldn't risk it again, not when he now knew what lay before him.

For the second time that night, the Dark Lord Voldemort witnessed something highly unusual, even by Wizarding standards. As the brilliant green of the curse rushed towards the child, he saw the child's eyes harden as they reflected the moonlight pouring in through the shattered window.

This, in itself, wasn't enough to unnerve the greatest Dark Lord of known history. No, what finally managed to do that was the fact that when the unblockable, infallible, always successful curse made contact the child's chest... it failed to kill him. Instead, the curse rebounded and came flying back towards him, whereupon it struck the medallion hanging from around his neck.

The last thing Lord Voldemort would know of that night would be an indescribable sensation as he fell to his knees, before the world around him exploded in immeasurable pain.

~oOo~

It had known that it was a mistake to come here. It had heard the child's cry. It had felt its power and it did not like what it had felt. The last time it had felt a power like that, it had feared for its existence. It did not understand; a small human child was _not _supposed to have such power at its command.

No matter how it tried to unravel this puzzle, it could only divine but one thing; it was in danger. A danger it had not known for many an age.

The last time that such a danger had existed, things had ended with it being completely cut itself off from Master; it had been the only way to protect itself. By using all but an infinitesimally small amount of its power, it had hastily constructed a prison for itself. It was a horrible action, a necessary action. An action which had cost it its link to Master.

It hoped that Master was still be out there somewhere. It had, after countless years, gathered enough power to be able to feel an influence upon the world and felt overjoyed at the thought that there was proof that Master may have survived. However, stuck within its self-constructed prison, it didn't have the strength to break out and call to Master.

Here and now though was a bigger problem, a terrible threat to both itself and to Master. With as much power as it could muster, power it had taken centuries to amass, stolen from the very life-force of the sorcerers that had carried it, it reached out to the current thrall and _commanded_.

_~KILL HIM! KILL HIM! NOW!~_

If it could have sighed in relief, it would have when it felt the thrall deliver a killing strike. That relief was short lived though, as it sensed a new threat, one far worse than before. It was a power that definitely didn't belong within a small human child, or _any_ being of this world, for that matter. It was a power that had just sent the killing strike back towards the thrall.

Then there was _pain._

Terrible, terrible pain rocked its very being. Pain such that it had never felt before. Terrible, terrible pain. Terrible pain wrapped within so much power. Power... yes... yes, the _power_! Unbelievable, angry, hate-filled, _power_!

Seriously weakened from being forced to command the thrall, it did the only thing it could think of at that time, it drank; it drank and it didn't stop. Oh, it knew that it was most likely killing the thrall, given that it was drinking in the thrall's life-force in the most direct way imaginable. But the _power_! The glorious, never-ending power. It was almost almost as if the thrall was actually _unable_ to die.

Oh the glorious strength that was returning to it, greater than it had felt in many a millennia. Soon it could... soon it would... finally it would be able... just a little bit more... _there_!

With a sharp burst of power the prison shattered, releasing a force so powerful that the walls of the flimsy building were forced outwards, far beyond where they should have been. At the same time the thrall was sent flying backwards.

Basking in its new found freedom, it couldn't help itself... it sung.

~oOo~

Lily was sure that she would need to see a cardiac specialist after this night was over. Any more shocks, or stress, and she was sure she would suffer from a heart-attack. It had been heartbreaking listening to her husband be killed, and then to be forced to watch as her only child was tortured. On top of that, she was positive that her heart had stopped beating altogether when she saw the green of the killing curse strike Harry, only to see the impossible happen, when the curse was reflected back towards Voldemort.

Rolling over to take her weight off of her injured shoulder (the one that she had unfortunately landed on when Voldemort's spell had broken), she stared in shock at the sight of the most feared man in recent history kneel there in a silent scream of agony, as tendrils of killing-curse-green magic pulsed, non-stop, around his body.

Looking quickly towards her son to make sure that the same wasn't happening to him, she felt panic rise up again when she saw his eyes flutter closed. Dragging herself across the floor towards him, she was unbelievably revealed to see that he was still alive, but her minimal medical training was screaming at her to keep him awake.

"Harry! Harry, wake up! Mummy's here, you have to sta-"

Lily was cut off when a great explosion occurred behind her, forcing her down upon her son. Pushing herself up, she had just started to turn towards the source of the explosion when her vision suddenly exploded in white light.

Lily Potter would never get to see what had caused the explosion, or find out why her vision was suddenly filled with white light. Instead, she became the latest example of the much overlooked fact that even witches and wizards were obliged to obey certain laws of physics. In this case, it was the law which implies that a human skull is highly unlikely to survive a collision with a falling support beam. A falling support beam that still had a good-sized piece of a roof attached to it.

It was an unfortunate thing too, as there was now only a single, small pair of sleepy eyes left to witness a small, golden object roll around under the debris of the collapsed roof. An item that projected odd looking symbols upon the surrounding surfaces as it moved.

It was unfortunate, because it would be many years before those eyes would realise just what it was that they had witnessed. After all, who was alive that could recognise those strange symbols, let alone understand the meaning behind the words: _Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul._


	3. Our Brave, Brave Hero

**Chapter 2 – Our Brave, Brave Hero**

_Pop question: What is the defining quality of a hero? Is it their courage? Their valour? Their noble heart? Or is it that a hero will choose to do what is right, and not what is easy?_

_There have been many heroes in times gone by; both in fact and in fiction. It is important to realise, though, that not all of them could be considered to have been brave or willing. Many were, in fact, quite reluctant, possibly even to the extend of being criminally negligent. But, the one common factor between them all, is that, no matter what their history, no matter how they started upon their journey; when their time came, they _all _answered the call._

_If such a time comes around for you, if a homeless man needed a hero, would _you _be willing to answer the call?_

_Would you even _able _to answer it?_

~oOo~

On a normal bed, in a normal bedroom, in a normal house, in a normal neighbourhood, sat a very _abnormal_ young boy.

What was so abnormal about this boy, you ask? Well, if one were to ask the boy in question, then he wouldn't actually be able to answer, as he wasn't exactly too sure. What he could tell you though, was that his aunt and uncle said that he was about as abnormal as one could get. Anyone who knew the Dursley family would likely agree to this as well; as, on a street such as Privet Drive, Vernon and Petunia Dursley were considered to be as _normal _as one could be.

It could be argued, however, that since they were so normal, that they themselves were, in fact, abnormal. After all, every family should have at least _some_ abnormalities, even if it was just the skeletons that they kept hidden in their cupboards. Then again, perhaps the Dursleys didn't keep their skeletons hidden in the cupboard. Perhaps they hid them in plain sight. Perhaps they hid them in the smallest bedroom, the one that was up the stairs and down the hallway; the second door on the left. The very same bedroom wherein sat a young, scruffy looking boy by the name of Harry James Potter.

With a sigh of resignation, Harry broke from his pondering and turned his head from where it was resting against the wall, and stared out the window. He knew that it was pointless to try to rationalise his abnormality, especially when he didn't even understand what it was that made him so abnormal.

He knew that it wasn't because he was an orphan, as there was an orphanage in town filled with orphans. He had been told that there was no room in the orphanage for abnormal children, like him, and that that was how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had come to take him in, out of the goodness of their hearts. He also knew that it wasn't because his parents were drunken hippies, as there was a girl at school that had hippies for parents. Her parents, on those few occasions that he had seen them passing by, seemed to be... well, not quite there, but she definitely seemed like a normal young girl. That is, as normal as one _could_ be with the name: Moonshine Rainbow Starlight Masterson.

Letting another sigh escape from his lips, this time a rather bored sounding one, young Harry Potter flopped down on his bed and continued staring out at the night sky, making up shapes and pictures with the stars, for the fourteenth night in a row. It was one of the few things he was able to do at the moment, as he had been confined to his room because of an incident linked to his abnormality, and was only being let out for long periods of time when there were chores that needed to be done.

As his eyes drifted over the multitude of dots hanging in the lightly clouded sky, his mind drifted back fourteen days. To the events that had landed him in perpetual time-out.

~oOo~

It had been a miserable morning when he was awoken by the sound of his aunt pounding on his door. There had been a summer storm pass by the previous day and there were still some clouds hanging in the sky, waiting for the sun to burn them away.

Harry cringed while pulling on his shirt. The thought of what would have become of the garden with all that wind and rain was not a pleasant one, and he just _knew_ that his Aunt was going to have him out there, in the mud, fixing it up. Truth be told though, he actually didn't mind working in the garden. Not that he would ever let Aunt Petunia know, as he had been taught that abnormal people tend to loose control of their abnormality when they were doing things they enjoyed. Loosing control of his abnormality was not something that was acceptable, so he had to work hard to keep it under control. A decidedly difficult task, given that he was entirely sure what the abnormality was.

"Come on, hurry up and get breakfast ready! I want everything ready for my birthday boy when he gets down there."

Dudley's birthday. How could he have forgotten? Hurriedly doing up the belt that held up the two-legged tent (more commonly known as his trousers), he quietly ran for the door. Knowing his luck, Dudley would have heard Aunt Petunia's call and would be rushing to get dressed himself. The thought of food was known to be a powerful motivator for his rather over-stuffed cousin. The same cousin was also likely to complain (quite loudly) if Harry didn't have any breakfast waiting for him.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Harry mumbled a greeting to his Aunt and began getting the breakfast frying pans out of their cupboard and onto the stove top. Harry didn't particularly enjoy cooking, but at least he knew that it was helping to keep his abnormality under control. It worked too, more often than not, as since he had started cooking there had been fewer abnormal occurrences than before.

"About time you got down here. Now hurry up and be sure not to burn the bacon this morning. Everything needs to be perfect for Duddikins."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Working more from memory than his Aunts instructions, Harry quickly set out fixing a _normal_ Dursley breakfast: scrambled eggs, fried bangers, french toast, bacon, black pudding, chips and fried tomatoes for both his Uncle and Cousin, and a single cheese and onion omelet for his Aunt.

While the smell of the bacon and tomatoes would normally tempt him to sneak a nibble, he knew from experience that it was better to just stick to what he was allowed: a small bowl consisting of two Weetabix and, if he had managed to keep his abnormality under control, then a single piece of fruit.

Speaking of breakfast...

Harry cocked his head and paused. Two seconds later the sound of running footsteps (not unlike that of a baby elephant) could be heard thundering down the stairs. Right on queue.

Harry was quite pleased with that little trick. Of all the things he had learned in his short life, learning how to anticipate Dudley and his friends had been the one thing that had saved him from a number of beatings, at the hands of the local bullies. Well, that and climbing trees. He always thought it was funny seeing Dudley trying to climb up after him. At least until Dudley would get bored and start throwing stones.

"Where's my presents?"

Dudley's voice brought Harry's mind back to the task at hand. Breakfast and chores first, thinking later; he had almost burnt the bacon.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing however, at the sudden thought of Dudley being told that his birthday had been cancelled, and that his presents sent back to the store. Laughing was bad. When he laughed, things that shouldn't happen tended to occur.

"They're in here, Duddy," his aunt's sickly sweet voice called from the living room.

Unfortunately this had the side-effect of causing Dudley to barge past Harry, in a mad dash to get his his presents, meaning that Harry ended up stumbling and nearly dropped a plater of bacon to the floor.

"Watch what your doing, Boy!"

Harry winced. His uncle had obviously seen that. "Sorry, Uncle Vernon. I'll be more careful."

"Too right, you will! We may clothe you and feed you, out of the goodness of our own hearts, but that that does not give you the right waste perfectly good food!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

He could almost feel his uncle's breath on the back of his neck, causing him to tense up. His uncle had never beaten him, like they had been warned about at school, but Harry knew that he wouldn't withhold punishment. Not when he deserved it. There were times when his uncle would get so angry, to the point of becoming all red-faced and unable to talk, before he would frog march him up to his room for some time-out, though Harry preferred the term 'boredom-treatment' to 'time-out'. More often than not, that was what usually happened when Harry did something abnormal.

Harry let out a sigh of relief when his uncle moved away, to join the rest of his family, leaving Harry to finish getting Breakfast ready. Harry listened in as he worked, trying to imagine what it would be like to be in Dudley's position for once.

"How many are there?"

Well, maybe not Dudley's position, exactly...

"Thirty-six, sweetums."

"You're forgetting Marge's one, Pet. That makes thirty-seven presents for the newest big boy in town."

"Thirty-seven? But that's less than last year!"

"And you father and I are going to be picking up another two while we're out today. How's that, popkin? _Two_ more presents for the birthday boy!"

"_Two _more? That makes... uh... um... thirty... thirty..."

"Thirty-_nine, _sweetums."

"Oh. Um... Okay!"

Harry paused in his work and gazed out the window. He would give anything for a birthday present; just one. Oh, he knew why he didn't get any presents, and he understood it perfectly; presents only came from family and friends. He knew that he didn't have any family, since his parents died a long time ago, and as for friends... well yeah, _what_ friends? But still, to get a birthday present... It would be just _fantastic_.

"What are you doing standing there with you mouth hanging open for? I swear if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards. Just like your mother, you are."

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied as he hurriedly finished dishing his aunt's omelet, being careful not to make a mess of it. Omelets had to be perfect, or they they were only good for the rubbish bin.

"Honey? How does _honey_ get to be front page news?" asked an incredulous voice from behind the newly opened morning paper.

'By spilling it?' Was the first though that popped into Harry's mind. He knew better than to say that aloud, though. His uncle may like to complain about the news, but he definitely didn't like it when other people talked about it over a meal. Generally speaking, it was safer to assume that anything that took him away from being able to eat was not a good thing.

"Pet? We don't have any _American_ honey do we?" Vernon asked, his head still buried in the paper. "It says here that there's some virus thing that the Yanks are having trouble with and they say it's in the honey," he looked around the paper to to see an uncertain look on his wife's face, then turned to scowl at Harry. "Boy! Go an make sure our honey is English!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Virus? Harry knew that word and was curious. Viruses made people sick. They had learned about them just before the holidays. But what did a virus have to do with Honey?

Picking up the jar of honey he read the label... uh, oh. Biting his lip he glanced back at his uncle who was scowling at something else he was reading in the paper. Looking at the label again, he realised there was no choice, he had to ask. It was times like these, that he really wished that he could think like a normal person.

"Uncle Vernon?" he asked tentatively while turning to face his uncle. It wasn't normal to talk to someone without facing them.

"What?"

"Uh... the honey is Scottish."

"_Well_, is that _English?_" seeing Harry's uncertain shake of the head, he ground out clearly for his 'slow' nephew. "Then _throw it out_."

Swallowing, Harry moved to throw away the honey. Something told him that this was _not_ going to be good day for him.

Even though the paper had said _American_ honey, and not _Scottish_, Harry knew that he really should give up with trying to think like a normal person. It was quite clear that Potter thinking just wasn't up to the standards of normal people.

Sitting back at the table, he saw his uncle raise his finger towards him and open his mouth, no doubt to let Harry know that he had done something wrong again, only to have Uncle Vernon be cut off by the phone ringing.

"Dursley residence." his aunt's crisp voice called out.

Harry never had been able to work out how his Aunt could get to the phone so fast. She always seemed to be able to answer it before the second ring, no matter where she was. Whatever the conversion was about though, he had a _bad_ feeling about it as he watched his Aunts expression grow apprehensive, her eyes flickering to him again and again. The words 'Uh Oh' were ringing quite loudly throughout his mind.

Hanging up the phone, Petunia turned to her husband. "Vernon, there's a _wee_ bit of a problem. Mrs Figg's broken her leg, something about tripping over one of her damned cats," she paused for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. "She can't take him today," her eyes flickering towards Harry once again.

"Well... what about what's-her-name... uh... Yvonne?"

"No, she's on holiday in Majorca... What about Marge?"

"Don't be silly," Vernon scoffed. "She _hates_ the boy!"

"Well... We could always leave him he-"

"No!" exclaimed Vernon, making Harry jump in his seat. "No, I won't have him and his unnaturalness left unsupervised. We'll... we'll... have to take him with us," Vernon said slowly, practically forcing the words to escape past his lips.

"_What_?" cried Dudley. "But I don't want him to! It's _my_ birthday and I _don't _want him to come. He'll _ruin_ it!" It sounded to Harry like his cousin was gearing up for another, all genuine, Dudley-powered tantrum. Harry seemed to always find himself getting into trouble with those.

"N-Now, now Duddidims. I-If we leave him behind, he... he... he would only break your new presents." stammered Petunia. She obviously didn't want to see her precious baby upset and had to act quickly. Dudley's head merely whipped around to Harry, his face and his eyes sending conflicting messages. His face showing the expression of an upset boy, his eyes screaming all sorts of pain if Harry broke any of his presents.

"If we bring him with us then we can make sure that he doesn't break any of your new toys. We can even get another present for you from the Zoo and we can make him carry it for you, all day."

"I get another present?" he asked slowly, his eyes were still on Harry. The look in them was beginning to make Harry feel nervous.

"Oh yes, of course! A nice big one, popkin. How does that sound?"

"Okay," Dudley replied smugly, his eyes still on Harry. "But _he_ doesn't touch it!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Dudley turned away. He would have to remember to stay out of Dudley's way today. But on the up side, at least he got to see the zoo.

He remembered sneaking a look at the evening news, the other night, while he was cleaning the dining room. There had been something on about some exotic animals that the zoo had just received. Suddenly, the prospect of a day with the Dursleys didn't seem too bad.

~oOo~

So much for a pleasant day.

Harry sighed as he followed after the Dursleys. His hopes of seeing the new birds of paradise, which were being advertised at the main gates, had been dashed as soon as Dudley had complained about how loud the aviary was. Instead, he had been forced to follow Dudley as they went from enclosure to enclosure, only to put up with Dudley's complaining whenever the animals didn't seem to do anything.

Harry wasn't exactly sure if that statement was correct though. He could have sworn that many of the animals were staring at him, almost as if they had never seen anything like him before. A very real possibility, Harry supposed, given that he was abnormal compared to everyone else. In some cases he was beginning to wonder if they were just sizing him up as if he were their next meal. It was a disturbing thought, especially when he was certain that he had spotted a harmless looking koala bear that seemed to have just such a look in its eyes.

Right now, they were heading towards Dudley's latest fixation... reptiles. Harry shuddered at the thought of having crocodiles staring at him as well. Although, he thought, at least with the crocodiles, he could be _certain_ that they were thinking of eating him.

Realising he was was falling behind, he ran to catch up. He did _not_ want to get left behind. Knowing his luck, they would probably leave without him after having forgotten that they had brought him along to begin with. It wouldn't be the first time that such a thing had happened, as people seemed to have a habit of forgetting about him. But then again it was understandable; it was just another side-effect of his abnormality.

Following Dudley's loud voice into the building in front of him, without really thinking, he rapidly ground to a halt when he saw what was in the room with him.

"Oh joy... _snakes,_" he muttered with a shaky voice.

Harry had _never_ liked snakes, not at all, _not one bit!_ In fact, one could easily say that Harry was terrified of snakes... and of crocodiles... and alligators... and... well, anything reptilian, really. It was something about their faces that Harry didn't like. He would look at them and would feel fear pumping though his veins. But, at least _these_ ones were behind solid glass. Or at least he _hoped_ it was solid glass.

Trying his best to swallow his fear, he cautiously moved up to one that his uncle and Dudley had just turned away from. Dudley was looking rather disappointed with it, so perhaps this one wouldn't be too bad.

"Well, at least it's sleeping," he whispered to himself as he looked though the glass. His voice having risen an octave of two, while he took in the form of the massive snake in front of him.

Looking down, he spotted the name plaque:

**Name: Tails  
Species: Red-tailed Boa (length: 5'3")  
**(Boa c. constrictor)  
Origin: Central & South America (BORN IN CAPTIVITY)

_This non-venomous species of snake is of  
a variety that will coil around it's prey, squeezing  
it to death, before swallowing it whole._

Squeezing it to death?

_Squeezing?_

Harry didn't like the thought of being squeezed to death by a snake, it sounded just as bad as being swallowed whole. Or being eaten at all, for that matter. Thinking that maybe it would be better to just wait outside for the Dursleys, Harry raised his eyes from the plaque only to jump back with a startled squeak.

There, no longer sleeping, was the largest snake that Harry had ever seen, its head raised to Harry's eye level where it was currently staring at him. The snake cocked its head and flicked its tongue out in a hiss that was, very thankfully, silenced by the glass. Though Harry couldn't help but wonder just how thick said glass was. Would it be strong enough to contain a five-foot three-inch snake, named 'Tails'?

Before he could convince his feet that they should really be standing outside, Harry found himself being shoved to the floor with great force. He ended up landing on his elbow at such and angle that he felt it violently jar all the way down to his little pinky. Looking up, with a scowl, to see who had pushed him over, he narrowed his eyes at the person that was now leaning against the glass window. Realisation dawning that he really shouldn't have bothered checking. After all, who else would it be other than the one and only Dudley Dursley.

"Dad! Dad!" Dudley called. "Come look at what the snaaaargh!"

Harry sat up and blinked, then closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment, before looking again. He was sure there had been glass there... glass that had been keeping the giant snake in... glass that was preventing said snake from slithering out... preventing the snake from slithering across the floor... slithering right towards where he was sitting.

With a whimper, Harry quickly backed up against the far wall, which was as far from the snake as he could get on such short notice. The snake, though, had other thoughts on how close it should be to Harry, and just kept on slithering towards him, only stopping when it was barely one foot away from him.

Rising to eye-level once again, it hissed at Harry for a few seconds before turning tail and making a hasty exit out the door, hissing and snapping at people as it went. Harry, for his part, did what he thought was the only logical thing he could do.

He passed out.

~oOo~

It turned out that Harry being chased by the snake wasn't the only thing that had happened in the snake-house. He had learned, after he had been very abruptly roused by his aunt, that Dudley had somehow fallen into the snake enclosure and then gotten himself trapped when the glass miraculously reappeared.

Of course, as with anything abnormal that happened, Harry received the blame for it when they got home. He had expected it. He was, after all, the only one he knew that had abnormality problems.

And that was how he had come to be here, lying on his bed, looking at the stars. No outside, no _inside_, no books, no anything. Just sitting in his room, grounded for two weeks, with nothing to do but sit there...

"_... and think about why you shouldn't do unnatural things, even if you _are _too slow to learn from your mistakes."_

It wasn't the first time that he had found himself in this situation, and he was positive that it wouldn't be the last.

Rolling over, he finally closed his eyes and started drifting off to sleep. It was going to be August tomorrow and August meant his birthday. He knew that he wouldn't get any sort of celebration for his birthday, like Dudley got, but it was nice to know that he was a year older. One year closer to outgrowing this strange abnormality.

* * *

**Added A/N:** After having a month or two Hiatus on this story I have turned up some interesting statistics about this chapter. About half of the people who read it choose not to continue reading. I can only assume that it is either because they don't like the idea of a Harry who has been mentally abused instead of physically abused, or because this Harry isn't fearless and actually has a common phobia (herpetophobia is the fear of reptiles).

If you are one of those readers who wishes to cease reading here, then please drop me a PM or review to say why, as I am curious about what it is with this chapter that turns people away.


	4. Remembering Promises

**Chapter 3 – Remembering Promises**

_I promise._

_One phrase. Two words. Eight characters; nine, if you count the space._

_What is it that makes these two simple words so special to us? Why is it that truly wise people are always cautious about using these two particular words? Is it that there some type of magic weaved into them, magic that we mortals cannot fully comprehend?_

_Whatever the reason, over the years promises have formed a cornerstone in modern society. You can't go a day without making deals and agreements; both giving and receiving promises. It has even got to the point, where people have started to categorise them. There are the generic promises, the deals, the agreements, the verbal contracts, the written contracts, and, the grand-daddy of them all, the covenants._

_Altogether, our lives are surrounded by them._

_Have you ever stopped to consider, for example, that by taking an item from the supermarket shelf and placing it into your trolley, or basket, that you are effectively making a promise, to the owner of the store, that you will pay for it before removing it from the store?_

_With all the promises you are involved in each day, have you ever stopped to consider the promises that you forget?_

~oOo~

"... and let us remember that, this time, people.

"Now, next on the agenda... Oh, yes," Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, looked down the meeting table towards the resident potions master. "Severus, I had a visit from the house-elf whom Pomona had left tending the greenhouses. It seems that the young mandrakes have come down with a very bad fungal infection. I am currently overseeing their treatment myself, but many of them are looking very, very ill.

"Just to be safe, I would like you to take a look over your course material, for possible alternative potions for your classes. It seems likely that many of the young plants won't survive. We are going to have to prioritise the usage of the mandrake harvest in such a way that we can maintain the necessary potions stock required by the hospital wing."

Seeing Severus Snape about to state the obvious, Albus smoothly raised his hand to calm him. "Yes, I know that they are a common ingredient, for the upper-years. Rest assured that sourcing replacement plants will be one of Pomona's key tasks, when she gets back."

Happy that he had mollified his ill tempered, yet incredibly talented, potions master, Albus took another quick glance at the agenda in front of him and smiled softly.

"Well, it seems that that is all that we have on today's agenda. Is there any general business that anyone wishes to table?" Albus asked as he gazed around the staff room.

Many of the assembled staff were throwing cautionary looks at their pairs, almost daring each other to say something. Even though Albus would never readily show it, it irked him that they didn't seem to be taking this seriously. Without these meetings, nobody would know what they needed to know and the school would grind to a halt. Honestly, it wasn't like they had any place else to be at this moment.

"I have something," stated a woman with greying, waspish hair. Her hawk-like eyes stared defiantly at those that glared at her for daring to extend the meeting any longer that it needed to be.

"Rolanda, the table is yours"

"I was just curious as to what the board's response was to my request for extra funding for the flight-training course."

Albus quirked an eye at the request. He knew, for certain, that the school board had responded to her directly, just this last week. He held back a chuckle at the thought of amateurs trying to play Politics. If Rolanda really wanted to do this then she should at least know how to play the game.

"You should be receiving a letter from them shortly," he replied smoothly, before allowing a solemn look to come over his face. "I'm afraid that they felt that there was already more than enough in the current budget to make do and that applying for a budget increase from the Ministry, of such a small amount, well it would not be in the best interests of the school."

"But the equipment is too old," she insisted, "It's only a matter of time before one of the first-years ends up in a serious accident."

"And the board stated that they are highly confident that you are up to the task of making sure that such a thing does not happen," he quickly interrupted. "If you need some assistance re-charming anything, then I'm sure that Filius would be happy to lend his charms, as always," he added, causing the diminutive charms professor to jump slightly in seat, desperately trying to ignore the slight blush that crept up his neck.

This had been an on-going issue for Albus, but the school's resident flight instructor just didn't see the big picture; there was only so much money to go around. The funding that was raised from the student fees barely covered the cost of the staff salaries, let alone the daily running costs. Those were covered by limited funding from the Ministry.

When he was much younger, Albus used to think that magic could solve anything. He soon learned, though, that there was one phenomenon that magic had no counter or cure for... accountants.

That was one of the reasons why Albus had decided to put his effort into having the board agree to the extra remuneration necessary to maintain the employment of talented witches and wizards. Such as the four, highly acclaimed, heads of house. The money that could be saved due to the abilities of the staff to grow, brew, enchant or conjure, far outweighed the higher salaries that they needed to be paid in return.

"Well then," Albus stated, before Rolanda could continue flogging the long-dead thestral, "it appears that all that needs to be discussed has been."

Seeing that no one was willing to contradict such a firm declaration, he continued. "Very well then it would seem that the our meeting has concluded. I wish you all a pleasant summer, until out next meeting on the fourteenth."

His statement, though nothing special, had an almost instantaneous reaction as many of the staff made for a hasty exit, causing to Albus to let out a small irritated huff.

"Oh yes! Before you go," he called out. His eyes started twinkling merrily as he saw Bathsheba's shoulders drop significantly, just as she was about to open the door. It was well known that Bathsheba Babbling, the Ancient Runes professor, did _not_ like meetings.

"For all those professors who haven't turned them in to me already; a reminder that I require course outlines for this coming year be turned in for final approval before the end of the week. Thank you."

Giving them a grandfatherly smile as the exodus of staff commenced once more, he turned to the resident groundsman. He had an important task for Hagrid, one that couldn't be discussed or implied openly. "Hagrid. Can I impose upon you to walk with me a bit? I wish to enquire about your plans for the delightful pumpkins you usually grow for us for the Halloween feast."

"O' course, Professor, o' course! There's some things tha' I was wantin' ter try this year, but I thought tha' I'd better check with yer first. Ya see, I was thinkin'..."

~oOo~

While the headmaster and groundsman were busily conspiring, under the guise of growing Halloween pumpkins, Minerva McGonagall was making her way back to her office. Being the Deputy Headmistress of the school meant that she didn't get to escape to the coast or to a holiday home each summer. Though there had been the occasional holiday that she had partaken in, she had found that she much preferred the life of the ageing workaholic that she was. Especially considering the fact that the school couldn't run itself.

Pausing to unlock her door, she allowed a small smile to creep across her face. Even during the summer holidays, when there were only staff here, she still double-checked that she had locked it before leaving. Ever since that fateful Christmas where, as a Christmas present, a fifteen year old James Potter had decided that he would redecorate her office for her.

To this day, she still did not know if he had used the correct tartan by accident or as part of the... 'gift'. Either way, it was a masterful work of magic that she had rarely seen from a student his age. Her small grew more sinister at the thought of what his punishment had been. It hadn't taken long, for young James to work out that it had been her whom had been responsible. She had finally earned his respect after that little incident.

The sudden memories of one of her prized pupils caused her to frown as she opened her door. Why did she feel like she had forgotten something? And why the sudden thoughts about James Potter? It wasn't until she was half seated that things clicked into place.

With a soft gasp, she rushed over to the small filing cabinet that she kept in her office and, after unlocking it with a special key which was always kept around her neck, she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a folder of parchment. They were the responses to the letters sent to this coming year's first-year students. Forgoing her comfortable desk chair for the moment, she began rifling though the contents of the folder, searching for one in particular, a twinge of panic forming in her gut.

It wasn't there. Why wasn't it there? How could she have overlooked this? He had captured the hearts of many of the staff during his stay in the hospital wing, her own included. He had become like an honorary grandson to her then... and she had _forgotten_ about him!

Carelessly dumping the folder back into the open drawer, for once not worrying about neatness and proper filing, she wrenched open another drawer and pulled out the Deputy Head's copy of the Hogwarts student register for this decade. After a complex wave of her wand to unlock the magically updated register, she began turning pages with a speed that would have made the school librarian wince.

Finding the section she was looking for she scanned it, searching for one particular name...

. _ .

**Potter,** Harry James**  
Date of Birth:** 01/08/1980  
**Mother:** Potter, Lily Rose (deceased)**  
Father:** Potter, James Samuel (deceased)**  
Legal Guardian:** Dursley, Petunia Hyacinth

**Last Known Address:**  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey, England

**Enrolment Application Received:** 05/08/1980

**House:** Awaiting Sorting  
**Years of Tuition Pre-Paid:** 7 years  
**Year 1 Advice Letter Sent:** 01/07/1991  
**Year 1 Advice Response Received:** Awaiting Reply

. _ .

Minerva could almost feel the blood fleeing her face as she paled. Not only had she forgotten about the boy, but she hadn't even noticed that she had penned his letter.

It was a matter of pride for her that she refused to use the copy-quill for the first-year letters and yet she had missed what she thought to be one of the most important names in the register, one she had promised herself to take special care with. Resting her head in her hands, she collapsed in her seat and began to question, for the first time that she could remember, just what had become of that attentive eleven year old girl that had stepped off of the Hogwarts Express fifty-five years ago.

~oOo~

_Poppy,_

_If you are reading this then you can know, for certain, that what I have feared for the past two years has finally come to pass._

_James and I have already asked a lot of you, and you have been more willing than I could have ever hoped for. For this, James and I will be forever in your debt. When your time comes, know that we will be there, willing to pay whatever it is that you demand of us. Well... maybe not 'anything'. While I can certainly appreciate your comment about a fine arse, it did make James more than a little nervous. (I have to say, though, that that statement is... _was..._ pleasant to hold over him, from time to time)._

_That said, I find that I have little choice but to ask another two favours of you. With this letter, I have included two other envelopes. I must ask that you hold onto these for now, and pass them on to Harry when the time is right._

_The first envelope contains nothing more than our Gringotts key. James feels that it should be passed on to Harry when he turns eleven. While I wasn't too certain about the idea initially, I now find that the idea is just... I don't know, _right_, I guess. So, when Harry turns eleven, please pass on this key to him. I know that there isn't much in there, especially compared to some wizarding families (not that he's going need it if Sirius has anything to say about it), but I think Harry will enjoy some of the things we are leaving in there for him. Especially if James leaves what I think he is leaving (not that he knows that I know, of course)._

_The second envelope... I don't know where to begin with this one, other than to say that holding on to this envelope is likely to be bring more danger to you than anything else that we have already asked of you. For your own safety, please, please keep it hidden and its presence unknown. I don't dare write about what is contained within it, other than to say that I have learned of one definite way to get around an unbreakable vow: you can only die once._

_That said, you will know when it is the right time to pass it on to Harry. It is sealed, with runic magic, in such a way that only Harry will be able to open it. James still thinks that I'm crazy for sealing it like this, and that there is every chance that Harry won't understand the magic involved to be able to open it. I can't even begin to describe how, but I just know that he will._

_Well, that was a bit of a mood killer. A few paragraphs of doom and gloom, and now my mind is fixed on the fact that if you are reading this letter, then both James and I are already dead. It would be impossible to be doing so, otherwise._

_What can a dead person write in a letter? Life was good, dying was terrible, and the afterlife is just that?_

_You have been a good friend to our small family, Poppy Pomfrey. Our one true regret is that time and events conspired against us, forcing things upon us that none of us ever asked for. _

_Thank you, for all that you have done for us and all that you have promised._

_With all our love,  
Lily and James._

_P.S. You are not alone. James says that there is another who will help, but he will not say whom. For their safety, and yours, I agree._

_. _ .  
_

Poppy sat at her desk staring at the letter she held in her hands, as a few stray tears found their way down her cheeks. She had found the letter, along with the aforementioned envelopes, hidden and forgotten, amongst a pile of muggle medical texts that she had been collecting over the years. They had arrived, ten years ago, in the guise of a transfigured owl and it was how she knew that they had passed on. It was how she knew that she needed to get to Godric's Hollow and find Harry.

Currently, she was supposed to be sorting through her potion supplies, and arranging for Severus to brew what was needed in order to restock prior for the start of the school year. When she had happened upon this letter the other day, she just couldn't get past one particular thought: Harry was coming to Hogwarts this year. It was a simple enough thought really, one that most people would probably be excited about; but not her. She was afraid.

She had a very good idea of what was at stake. She was, after all, one of the few people that knew of the existence of the prophecy. Albus didn't know that little fact, and that was what made her afraid. What would happen to her if he found out? What would become of her, for knowing something about the prophecy that even Albus didn't? Would she be able to keep the promise that she had made to Lily and James?

"I'd better be able to keep it," she chuckled hollowly to herself, while shaking her head. "Breaking an unbreakable vow tends to have a rather nasty side-effect."

Not for the first time, she wished that she had a Gryffindor's courage.

"Gryffindor..." she murmured to the empty office, a small smile beginning to creep onto her face. The ageing Hufflepuff alumnus may not have been the bravest of her year, but she knew exactly who was. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too compelled to ask questions that couldn't be answered.

~oOo~

Moments later, the empty halls of Hogwarts were witness to a sight that would normally cause their usual occupants to become very concerned. It was the sight of Poppy Pomfrey running though the hallways as though someone's life depended upon it.

~oOo~

Minerva couldn't recall how long she had just sat there, wallowing in self-disgust and self-pity, but it was the sound of a house-elf delivering her afternoon tea that had finally been able to bring her out of her reverie. As she allowed the scolding, brown liquid to sooth her wayward emotions, she finally began to think about what could have become of young Harry.

It was clear, according to the register, that Harry and his _relatives_ hadn't moved since she and Albus had delivered Harry to Surrey. Unless they had moved and had failed to contact the Royal Post, that was. The fact that the book contained the last known address of all registered students under the age of seventeen was one of the reasons the two identical books were kept under lock and key. She couldn't help but shudder a little, at the thought of leaving any child in the their care, but, as Albus had said: for once the law was working for the greater good. She still refused to even contemplate what could of happened if the unconvicted death eaters had ever managed to find him. Frank and Alice were bad enough.

But then, if they hadn't moved then why had the letter gone unanswered? Lily's sister had to have known of the magical world for over twenty years by now; so there should have been no chance that she had thought that it was a hoax, like some of the muggle-born families did. Frowning slightly at what that could mean, she came up with the only conclusion that she could: Petunia didn't want Harry to come to Hogwarts.

For the life of her, she just couldn't work out _why_. But, whatever the reason, her path was set. She would have to pay the Dursleys another visit and ensure that her wayward almost-grandchild was returned to where he was supposed to be.

Locking away her copy of the student register, she began making her plans. She knew where he was living, that was the easy bit as she had already met the Dursleys. It was all the other things that needed to be done that she had to work out. Her first obstacle would be a travelling companion. It had been school policy, since just after she had graduated, that any visit to a student's home be done by both the student's head of house along with one other senior member of staff.

When it came to the new muggle-born first-years that had yet to be sorted, she normally made sure that a pair could be formed from herself, Pomona and Filius. That was going to be her first problem.

Filius had been all set to catch a portkey to the Azores just after the meeting that they had sat though that very morning. Coincidentally, it was at the same time that Rolanda left for a one week holiday to Portugal; a country that just happened to be within apparation distance of the Azores... with no border restrictions. Minerva snorted at that particular poorly kept secret. The only members of staff who didn't seem to realise what was going on between those two were Albus and Hagrid.

Pomona, on the other hand, had been in Canada for the past week at some emergency herbology summit. She still couldn't fathom what hergologists would consider an emergency, but she did know one thing: the only other senior professors in the castle at the moment were Cuthbert Binns and Severus Snape. Neither one a likely first choice for such a delicate task.

She really didn't want to have to take Severus with her as she clearly remembered the mess that had resulted from the last time that he had visited the residence of a prospective muggle-born first-year. She did _not_ like having to obliviate anyone, let alone the family of a prospective student.

"Pomona, where are you when I need you?" she uncharacteristicly whined.

A knock at her office door caused her to blink. Surely not, she thought to herself, while calling out for the person to enter.

Half expecting to be greeted by the sight of a key-lagged herbology professor, she was rather surprised when the door opened to admit a puffing school mediwitch.

"Poppy! Is everything alright? Is there an emergency?"

"You could... say that." came the wheezy reply as the mediwitch took the offered seat. Seeing the look of alarm on her friend's face, she hastily made to explain herself. "I'm getting too old to do... something like that... If I try that again... _I'm_ going to be the emergency," she said with a rueful grin.

Chuckling at the woman's antics, she regarded her former class-mate for a moment, realisation slowly forming in her mind. Poppy had been on staff longer than Severus. Perhaps... Taking a breath she decided it was worth a shot.

"I need your help," they both said, causing them to stare at each other in shock.

"Well, I must say that hasn't happened in a while," Poppy said to break the silence.

"I can agree with you there, Poppy. But please, continue."

Taking a deep breath and silently reprimanding herself for not taking a small dose of calming draft beforehand, Poppy reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a old looking envelope and stared at it for a moment before swallowing her nerves and began.

"When Lily and James Potter died, I was given something to look after, for Harry, with some instructions that I probably shouldn't go into," she said, still looking at the envelope. "Healer's oaths and everything," she added, looking up at the one woman who could either help her do what needed to be done, or could ruin everything. Seeing a nod to continue, she couldn't help but let her shoulders fall slightly in relief. She hadn't even realised that they were tensed. She always did find it amazing how much information a healer could hide just by claiming 'Healer's Oath'.

"They gave me this envelope," she continued, handing over the offending item. "With instructions, that it was to be turned over to their son on his eleventh birthday. Only, I don't know where he is and I didn't want to have to disturb Albus with this."

To say that Minerva was stunned was an understatement. She knew that Poppy and the Potters had grown close over the short time that they had known each other, but this was unexpected. Then there was that comment about avoiding Albus. Glancing at her friend, she noticed, for the first time, that she was fidgeting much like a student that had been caught doing something they shouldn't.

Before she could even think to stop it, her eyes narrowed and her brain kicked into gear as questions whirled around faster and faster. Why is she nervous? Has she done something wrong? Why did the Potters trust her with this over any of their other friends? Why doesn't she want to ask Albus? Is she afraid to ask him? What is she secret is she protected by her healer's oath? Is she working for Death Eaters?

As soon as the last the last question passed though her conscious mind, her brain jammed up. The image of Poppy Pomfrey dressed in Death Eater garb running around trying to heal all their victims, while sternly berating each one of them for fighting, caused a rather unladylike snort to erupt. Shortly after, much to the displeasure of the other woman in the office, Minerva McGonagall was all but falling out of her chair laughing. It was just the medicine she needed to break out of the melancholy mood this day had put her in.

"Minerva! _Please_, this is serious!"

Doing her best to compose herself, Minerva took one look at Poppy and had to fight off another wave of laughter. She just couldn't get that image out of her head. Closing her eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, she tried again. The image was still there but at least now she could hold the laughter. "Sorry, Poppy," she said with a strained voice. "It was just a random thought,. Completely ridiculous. Nothing that you need to worry about."

Poppy wasn't quite sure how to take that reply, she could see that her friend was fighting another laughing fit and had the sneaking suspicion that it was at her expense. Deciding that she perhaps would not want to know the reason for it, she continued.

"Okay," she said slowly. "Are you able to help me out then?"

Minerva couldn't help the smile that crossed her face. Things were turning out better than she could have hoped for. "Tell me, Poppy. When was the last time that you played 'Muggle'?"


	5. Homeward Bound

**Chapter 4 – Homeward Bound**

_Home._

_When asked, most people would say that your home is where your heart is. It is a simple answer and a widely accepted one that has been taught to children everywhere. It is a curious point of view though. Especially when, philosophically speaking, it is easily argued that your heart is often squarely focused on whatever it is that you spend most of your time thinking about. Take into account the usual human fixation on... 'practical reproductive activities', and it makes you wonder just what it is that most people consider to be 'home'._

_Now, if we ignore the philosophical side of things for a moment, and return to the base definition of the word, then we can say that your home is where you dwell. Again, this is a curious point of view. Many people who have just 'left the nest', as it were, would be readily able to tell you that the location where they currently dwell never feels quite like the home they grew up in._

_So, if we follow the most sensible progression here, it would have to be argued that your home is where your family is, where your loved ones are._

_That raises a very important question though: If you have no family, if you have no loved ones, then does 'home' even exist?_

~oOo~

Harry entered the kitchen and immediately gagged when he was greeted by what had to be the worst smell that he could possibly imagine. Of course, with how his luck had been lately, gagging was probably not the wisest thing to do. As it was, his Aunt Petunia had heard the distinctive sound and turned from the sink to fix him with a glare that was strong enough to stop him in his tracks.

"Get over here boy!" she snapped. "This is _yours _after all."

Swallowing a nervous lump, Harry cautiously approached the sink, making sure to keep his aunt within his sight. He still vividly remembered what had happened last Thursday, when she had almost concussed him with a frying pan after he had been let out of his room to do his chores. In his own defence, he was positive that he hadn't done anything abnormal. The only thing he had done was to ask where the broom had gone.

He found it strange, actually; his aunt and uncle had never been that jumpy in the past, or as willing to resort to physical punishment as they were now (well okay, so maybe his uncle might have been). Yet something had been different these past few weeks and now both of them seemed more than ready to lash out for no particular reason at all.

Even Dudley had been on the receiving end of this odd behaviour (much to his cousin's shock and despair). When even Dudley's tantrums had failed to protect him, his overly large cousin had taken to hanging out with his friends; an activity that Harry knew to mean that he was taking his gang of friends to the park in order to find someone to help him vent his frustrations. A sure sign that Harry should avoid the park for the time being.

"What is it?" Harry asked when he was in view of the sink. All he could tell about the horrible smell was that it was coming from a large metal bowl that was sitting in the kitchen sink, containing something... _grey_.

"What is it?" Aunt Petunia quietly growled. "_That_ is your new school uniform, you insolent child," she suddenly barked. "You will stir that for the next hour until it is the correct colour, then you will take it outside to dry. Do _not _get any dye in the sink, _or _on the bench, _or _on the floor, _or _on the grass!" With that, his aunt spun around and, while muttering something about 'bloody twigs', she stormed into the living room where she joined her husband, whom was currently trying to do his best to enjoy his week off from Grunnings.

And that was another thing that been confusing Harry lately. His aunt, uncle and cousin usually went away to the beach, or his uncle's sister's place at this time of the year; leaving Harry to stay with the strange old lady with the house that smelled like cabbage. This year, however, they had suddenly cancelled their holiday plans for no reason at all. Shaking his head, Harry once again vowed for what had to be millionth time to never try to understand a Dursley. As they had to keep reminding him, he just wasn't able to think like a normal person.

Scrunching up his nose in disgust, he picked up the wooden stick that his Aunt had been using and started to stir the liquefied gunk. Harry kept stirring for many minutes before his curiosity got the better of him. Hoping that his uniform looked better than it smelt, he carefully isolated one of the pieces of clothing and lifted it up.

However, once he finally managed to lift up what seemed to have been his new shirt (and somehow managing to contain the dripping dye to the metal bowl) he found himself struggling to prevent his eyes from popping out of his head. Perhaps 'shirt' was the wrong word to describe the item that was in his hands. You see, to a child of Harry's size, it was more like he was holding up a small, blotchy, grey dress.

Well, blotchy, grey dress or not, Harry once again reminded himself that he was definitely _not _having the best of summers this year. First it was the Zoo incident, then it was the increasingly odd behaviour of his aunt and uncle, and now it was someone knocking on the front door. Normally, a knock on the front door wouldn't be any sort problem at all for Harry except that, in this instance, the person had knocked so suddenly and so loudly that it caused him to jump on the spot.

In hindsight, Harry came to the conclusion that perhaps his uncle had been correct all along and that curiosity _was_ a undesirable trait. He came to this conclusion while he watched (in painfully slow motion) as the 'shirt' fell from his hands and back into the bowl, causing a great wave of grey dye to slosh all over his aunt's kitchen bench, where it then quite happily proceeded to pour over the edge of the bench and onto the floor.

"Forget the frying pan," he murmured to himself. "This time she's going to kill me."

Harry had little choice but to watch as the grey liquid spread out over the ultra-shiny, white linoleum floor. He knew from past experience that it was going to be absolute murder to ever get it clean again.

~oOo~

In the tall tree by Number Three, hidden amongst its large branches and many leaves, sat the watcher. For nearly twelve years they had stood guard over the fledgling, ready to call for aid at a moment's notice. Day or night, sleet or snow, always they watched over him, just like it had been promised.

Today's watcher was feeling quite proud of herself actually, for today was the first day that she was trusted to watch unsupervised. Compared to her cousins, it had taken much longer for her to reach this level of recognition as she had often gotten into trouble for not maintaining proper cover like she had been instructed. She didn't mind it though, as she could easily tell that the fledgling was a bit like her, in that he didn't have many friends, so she had decided that they could each be a friend for the other. After all, her grandmother had given her life to protect the fledgling, the least that she could do was to give him her friendship.

The distinctive sound of air being suddenly displaced caused her to rapidly tense up. It was one of the sounds that she had been trained to recognise; the sound of a magic user appearing.

Shuffling along the branch she eased further into the shadows of the tree, and peered out towards the direction of the sound. For a few moments, she could see nothing other than the normal, everyday foot traffic of the local residents. She was just about to go and investigate the source of the sound when she spotted them.

Two female bald ones were now standing at the entrance of the cul-de-sac. She could tell that they were magic users just by the way they were dressed, not even needing to rely on the feeling of magic that they seemed to be radiating. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at them for a moment, bringing her training to bare while she assessed them as a potential threat.

The shorter of the two seemed okay, and the taller one felt somewhat familiar; but it was a rather disturbing sort of familiar in that it caused her heart to pound rapidly in her chest. There was something decidedly 'off' with that taller female.

Glancing back towards the fledgling's nest she quickly realised that there were almost right on top of it and she still hadn't decided what to do with them. The taller female was making her want to fly away as quickly as she could, but the shorter one wasn't so much as ruffling a single feather. Dread started to fill her as she realised that she had never been taught what to do in this particular scenario. _Why_ did this have to happen on the first day by herself?

Finally realising that her inaction was likely to get the fledgling hurt, she decided that perhaps it was best to make her presence known. She could always call for aid if they proved to be hostile towards her. With the decision made, she spread her wings and, after a few powerful flaps, soared across the street to face the two females.

~oOo~

Minerva took in a deep breath of air. She never had liked side-along apparating people; it had to be the most uncomfortable thing she had ever experienced in her life and, when you considered her age, that was indeed saying a great deal.

Taking a quick glance at her travelling companion to ensure that she hadn't left anything behind, she stepped out of the small walkway where they had appeared and after checked to make sure that they had not been noticed by any passers-by before she lead the way towards Privet Drive. With each step she took, more and more memories came back to her, causing her to wonder just how she could have forgotten so much about the only child that had been successful in causing her to act like a doting grandmother.

Pausing at the entrance to the cul-de-sac that made up Privet Drive, she turned to her friend. "Now remember, Poppy; these aren't your everyday muggles, nor is it your everyday visit of a student's home. In fact, it may help for me take care of the talking to begin with. Something tells me that we may not be welcomed here."

"Come now, Minerva. Surely it couldn't be that bad?"

"Did Lily ever mention her sister to you?" Minerva asked, raising a crisp eyebrow.

Seeing Poppy's eyes widen slightly at that question was all the answer she needed. She didn't know much about the relationship between Lily and her sister, but what she had heard from James was bad enough.

"Yes, that was my reaction too, when I first found out that Harry had to come here. But the law is the law. As much as it pains me to admit it, it was far better that he was sent here rather than risk loosing him like we did Frank and Alice," an angry scowl began to form on her face as she paused. "And if Black had had his way, you can be guaranteed that that would have been the outcome."

Not wanting to start a debate about a decision that had never sat right with her, Minerva started walking again, with her friend hurrying to catch up. She was just about to walk though the gateway that was in the little stone wall outside of Number Four, when something happened that she definitely wasn't expecting. A white, snowy owl had swooped down before them and perched on the corner of the gate that she had been about to pass through. Once there, it barked loudly at them and gave a few cautionary flaps of its wings.

"My goodness!" exclaimed her companion. "I've never seen a post-owl behave like that before."

The owl let out a loud, indignant bark towards the ageing healer, causing the two witches to jump back in surprise. Minerva didn't know what was wrong with what Poppy had just said, but she was rather surprised to see that the little creature was now glaring at the old healer. She wasn't entirely certain just _how _it was possible for an owl to glare, but quickly decided that it was a very disconcerting sight to behold.

"I wonder why there's a post-owl h-" she started to say, only to be interrupted as the owl let out another indignant bark and turned its glare towards her, causing her to blink in surprise.

"Uh, I don't think that's a post-owl, Minerva," Poppy suggested after a few moments of silence. "It's odd though," she added, earning herself the return of the bird's glare, "I've never seen any owls express this level of intelligence that aren't post-owls. I wonder what it's doing here."

Minerva thought that perhaps she was imagining it, but she was certain that she saw the owl's eyes flicker towards the very same house that they were trying to approach. With an incredulous thought dawning upon her, she leaned down to peer more closely at the owl. The bird, however, didn't seem to like her doing that and it quickly hopped backwards and raised its wings in a defensive posture.

"Minerva," her friend chuckled, "when are you going to learn that birds don't like being close to you."

Minerva threw a scowl back towards her friend, before once again peering closely at the owl. She knew very well that birds were somehow able to sense her animagus form. It was an odd phenomenon, even by wizarding standards. So odd in fact, that Alfred Kettleburn and herself has spent many years trying to ascertain just why it was. However, even with all their experience, it was still very much a mystery to them.

Frowning thoughtfully to herself, she suggested her growing theory with her friend. "You don't suppose that young Harry has managed to find himself a familiar, do you?"

"A familiar?" Poppy asked with chuckle. "Minerva, the boy is only eleven years old. Familiar bonds take _years_ to form"

"Well, stranger things have happened, Poppy," she retorted, before narrowing her eyes at the owl. "You know who Harry is, don't you?" she mused aloud, only to blink when the owl slowly bobbed its head. It was bad enough when the headmaster's phoenix did that, but an _owl?_

"Yes, well we mean him no harm," she added, while mentally berating herself for acting like she she was pleading a case in front of the Wizengamot.

The owl narrowed its eyes at her and she had the sudden urge to laugh out loud at the ludicrousness of the thought of having to negotiate safe passage with an owl. It didn't help that she could hear her friend desperately trying to stifle her own laughter behind her back.

"We are from the school that Harry will be attending and we need to talk to Harry and his relatives," she tried. She silently swore that if Poppy breathed a word of this to Filius, then she would spend the rest of the summer as a donkey!

There were a few moments pause (in which Poppy's sniggers were becoming much more frequent) but the owl finally relaxed its stance. A few moments later, it took flight and circled around so that it could perch on top of the lamp post outside of Number Six. It continued to stare at them though, and she couldn't help but get the feeling that she had just been issued a warning.

Shaking the feeling off, she let out a feline-like growl at the amusement her friend was showing and strode up to the front door of Number Four and knocked in such a way that would have made Hagrid sound quiet.

After an annoyingly long wait, the sounds of grumbling could be heard approaching the door before it was thrown open to show a rather rotund looking man. The man stood there in confused silence for moment before his eyes narrowed slightly.

"What do you want?"

Minerva could instantly tell he didn't remember her.

"Vernon, how nice to see your manners have impr-" she began to reprimand.

"Who is it, Vernon, dear," interrupted Petunia as she rounded the corner. When she spotted the two witches in her doorway she promptly let out a startled squeak. "Go away!" she hissed. "We don't want you here. It's enough trouble having the brat here as it is. Now _go_!"

"Petunia, whether you want us here or not, we _will_ be coming in."

Vernon, finally catching on to who, or rather what, these two women were, rounded on them while his face began to take on an angry red tinge. "You heard her, _your_ kind are not welcome here," he growled at them. "Unless you're here to take the bastard away for good, you can just bugg-ga-gah-gaah-"

Now, as anyone who knew him would be able to tell you, Vernon Dursley was a very forceful man. It was widely believed that when he sank his teeth into someone that that person would generally be wishing they had never crossed him. In fact, he had become the one manager at Grunnings that had the highest turnover of secretaries that the company had ever seen.

It would therefore come as a surprise to those people to find out that this one woman, whom appeared to be old enough to be the man's mother, had the ability to stop one of Vernon Dursley's vocal rampages with nothing more than a look.

"I assure you, Vernon Dursley," she said in a tone that could have turned water to ice, "If you even think of completing that sentence, it will be the last one that you ever do."

Poppy, who was just as outraged at his comment as her old friend, couldn't resist her own rebuke. "You know, Mr Dursley, as a healer I would highly recommend getting that skin condition looked at. That much red on someone with your fair skin is definitely not a good thing."

The comment, while witty for her, earned her an exasperated glance from Minerva. In return, she just smiled innocently and shrugged her shoulders. After all, she knew that she wasn't anywhere near as good at word games as Minerva was. She grinned, though, as she watched her friend fight an eye-roll before turning back to the obese man, whom Poppy had correctly deduced was Harry's Uncle.

Minerva made an imperious shooing motion with her hand towards Vernon, and boldly stepped past him into the house. Poppy made to follow and found herself having to dash inside quickly, before Vernon could slam the door closed in her face. Casting an angry glance at the man, she prayed to any deity that would listen that Harry hadn't grown up to be like him.

~oOo~

Ten minutes later, Poppy found herself sitting in the living room, along with Minerva, the elder Dursleys and young Harry. When she had first laid eyes on the boy, she had been stunned at how much he now looked like his parents. She could tell that his general appearance was inherited from his father, but he had inherited the smaller stature, facial structure and green eyes from his mother. The overall effect had rapidly brought forward painful memories in the two witches.

Harry, she could tell, was rather nervous about being asked (or rather _ordered_) to join the conversation. If her initial interaction with Vernon Dursley hadn't left a bad taste in her mouth then the tone of voice that he had used when calling Harry into the room had definitely succeeded. It was no wonder that the boy looked so nervous. Of course she had no way of knowing it at the time, but his initial nervousness was actually more a result of the grey mess that was currently staining the kitchen floor than anything else.

Thankfully the boy seemed to relax a bit as Minerva began to explain why they were there and Poppy could even see a glimmer of cautious excitement at the revelation of his upcoming year at Hogwarts. There was, however, something in his eyes that confused her slightly. If she had to put a name on it, it would have been 'hope', but it just seemed so out of place on such an innocent face.

She was quickly shaken out of her thoughts by Minerva's hardening tone. It was then that she had realised that she had been paying too much attention to long forgotten memories, and not enough on the conversation at hand.

"So let me get this straight," began Minerva in her typical 'detention voice'. "You have been lying to Harry all along about who and, more precisely, what he is?"

"We _never_ lied," snapped Petunia. "He's a _freak_, just like his mother, and he knows it."

"Lily was one of our world's greatest people!" Minerva suddenly barked, causing Poppy to jump at the abrupt volume change. She had always known that Lily had been one of her friend's prized pupils, but she had never realised just how far that feeling went.

"_Your_ world this, _your_ world that," Petunia spat back. "You think that you're better than the rest of us, don't you? Well you're nothing but _freaks_ and _mutants_, the lot of you. Why the government doesn't round you all up, I will never know."

Poppy stared, aghast, at Petunia as the younger woman stared down her nose at them. She expected this sort of behaviour from the more traditional wizarding families, not from a _muggle_. How could Minerva have left Harry in the care of such people?

"Poppy?" Minerva inquired in a surprisingly calm voice. "Would you mind taking Harry into the kitchen for a minute? I'm sure you would want to check him over to satisfy your own curiosity."

Poppy's eyes widened at the sudden change in her friend's demeanour. She had only witnessed such a change once in the past. Her friend had been the only person to walk away from that disagreement. To this day, she still refused to even think about what may have happened to that small group of wizards dressed in long black robes and bone white masks.

"Come along, Harry," she said as she quickly rose, rapidly gesturing for Harry to join her. She didn't want to have to witness anything that could get her friend into trouble. "No time like the present to ensure that you're still fit as a fiddle."

As soon as the were in the kitchen and door was closed, she flicked her wand to cut off all the already rapidly rising voices that were coming from the living room. The healer in her definitely didn't want to hear her friend curse defenceless muggles into oblivion, even if a part of her thought that they did deserve it. However, before she could carry out Minerva's suggestion of a quick examination, she was accosted by an unimaginable stench.

"What in Merlin's name is that stench?" she asked as she scrunched up her nosed in disgust and glanced around the kitchen.

"Uh, t-that would be my new uniform," mumbled Harry as he shamefully pointed to the sink.

"Well you won't be needing that any more." she declared, and with a swirl of her wand she vanished the offending items. Another swipe of her wand and the stains vanished from the bench and floor. A final twirl had the air smelling (rather disturbingly) like a hospital.

Turning back to Harry she smiled. "That's better. Now, why don't you come over into the light so I take a look at you."

Harry, for his part, didn't move. Instead, he was staring at her wand with equal parts of both fear and awe.

Poppy rolled her eyes at the sight. "Oh come now, child, surely you don't believe all that codswallop about witches and wizards all being nasty do you?" she asked.

Seeing that he wasn't about to answer, she tried again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. You should know that for every witch or wizard that goes bad, there are hundreds, if not thousands, that are as good as you can get. Take your parents for example; they were some of the kindest people I have ever met."

That had appeared to work, as Harry stared up at her face in wonder. She fought to swallow a flood of emotion when she suddenly found herself staring into eyes that were so much like Lily's. So similar... and yet so different. There was something in them that Poppy realised could only be an indication of his destiny. She could only hope that the headmaster would never notice it until after Harry had grown.

"You knew my parents?" the boy asked reverently.

"Yes I knew them," Poppy replied with a kind smile. "You parents and I became good friends before... well before they were murdered."

Even though she was still smiling, she could feel that it was becoming more forced. The memories of that fateful night had always been hard for her. She still had the occasional nightmare about what she had seen when she had entered that house to search for Harry.

"I even brought you into this world, you know," she added in an attempt to brighten the suddenly dim mood. She chuckled briefly at Harry's visible confusion, before elaborating. "I used to be a specialist healer at the hospital in London; so I was the healer that was present when you were born."

"You're a doctor? I was born in London? I lived in London?"

The sudden questions had come almost naturally to the boy, but Poppy looked on with hidden anger as the Harry seemed to quickly shrink in on himself as he apologised for asking too many questions.

"There's no need to apologise, Harry," she said as she slowly crouched down in front of him. " Asking questions is perfectly fine. It's how we learn after all.

"Now, to answer your questions. I'm actually what is called a Healer. I guess you can say that it's very similar to a doctor, just... different." She paused to grin slightly. "I like to say 'better'. I actually specialise in working with children, which is one of the reasons why I'm now working at Hogwarts. It's also why I was there when you were born."

Poppy snorted to herself in amusement. "Actually, you could say that that is why I was there when half the school was born." That comment only served to further confuse the boy before her, so she tried to carefully elaborate. "There aren't that many healers out there that are willing to learn what to do during a child birth. No need to be worried about it though. I'm sure that you'll learn all about it, later in life.

"Now, your second question: You weren't actually born in London, you were born in a village called Godric's Hollow. Do you know where that is?"

Harry shook his head.

"Oh. Um... well I'm not that brilliant with directions, but, um, if you go a inland a bit and a little bit south from, uh... from Aber-Abers- Aberysw-tyh. Oh_ dear_. Sorry, but I'm absolutely _terrible_ at Welsh names. I'll have to show you on a map sometime, that will be easier. Anyway, back on topic, you were actually born in the home that you an your parents used to live in before... well... well, before that night."

Poppy silently cursed her loose tongue. Why did she have to keep bringing the conversation back to that night? Mentally shaking herself, she decided that perhaps she should postpone this particular conversion until later, especially since her legs were beginning to get rather sore. She was getting far too old to crouch down like this. Drawing her her wand, which she had slipped away during her short talk with Harry, she smiled amusedly at the boy's suddenly wary expression.

"Well, how about I check you out now, hmm?"

Without waiting for an answer, she waved her wand and cast a typical healer's diagnosis spell upon the boy. She restrained a laugh from escaping her as the boy jumped and looked around wildly when he was hit with the poking sensation that the spell induced. It was a reaction she normally saw from muggle-born students as (unlike the pure-blood children) they had never experienced such a thing before. However, that didn't mean that it wasn't still funny to watch though.

As the results started to appear, she concentrated on examining the shapes and colours that she could perceive upon the boy's body. She had always found it amusing when she heard the children wonder if spell just let her instinctively know what was wrong with them. If only they knew that it took many, many years of hard study to learn what all the possible shapes and colours meant for the different body parts. Speaking of which...

There was an unusual pattern over his heart. Even with all her knowledge and experience, she had no idea what it meant. She was sure that she had seen it before though, but _where_ and _when_. Her pondering was interrupted, however, when the door to the living room was opened.

~oOo~

"Is everything okay in here, Poppy?" asked the rather smug feeling transfiguration professor.

"Oh, yes, yes, everything's fine."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. Poppy had clearly been been giving the boy a check-up of some type but the delivery of her answer belied the fact that she didn't seem to believe her own response. "Well, if you're sure then, we're all set to leave when you two are ready."

"Of course, of course. Lead on," her friend replied as she carefully rose from her crouch.

Minerva smiled in amusement when she heard her friend whisper to Harry that he should come and see her when he got to school so that they could talk about his parents. While half of her was sure that it had been a purely sincere proposition, the other half was laughing internally at what had to be very a poorly disguised attempt to get another look at her patient.

Leading the way outside, Minerva explained a bit about their trip to Diagon Alley but soon found them being accosted once more by the same owl that had challenged their entry into the house. It clearly looked like the bird did not want them taking Harry away.

"Hedwig! Calm down." Harry said as he fought laughter at the sight of the owl's behaviour. "I'm sure you can come too."

To Minerva's amazement the owl actually settled down with that simple statement. It only served to reinforce her belief that they were in fact dealing with a familiar bond, however incredible it may seem. There was one peculiar thing that caught her attention though.

"Hedwig?" she enquired of the boy. "That's a very unusual name, even in the magical world."

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment as he replied. "I heard the name at school and liked the sound of it. Hedwig seems to like it too, don't you girl?"

Little did they know that Hedwig actually like that name very much. She even preferred to to the name that she had been given by her mother, even if she would never be able to pronounce it. Click-bark-squawk-click was not something you should _ever_ bestow upon a hatchling.

"Oh. How do you know that Hedwig is a girl though?" She had always struggled when it came to determining the gender of a bird and was actually genuinely curious about the answer.

"I asked her," the boy replied, as the he looked at her as though she had just asked the most ridiculous question imaginable.

The reply had been given with such an innocence and surety that Minerva just stared at the boy, unsure of how to respond. Looking towards the owl didn't help much either, as the owl just bobbed her head in the most disturbing imitation of a nod.~oOo~

In the end, Hedwig had ended up perched upon one of Harry's shoulders as they walked towards the walkway off of Wisteria Lane. Minerva had finished her explanation about Diagon Alley and Harry was now shyly explaining to Minerva about the large owl population in the area and how he had come to meet Hedwig one day.

While listening in, Poppy had to admit that there may have been some truth to her friend's familiar theory. The healer, however, was spending most of her time trying to keep a straight face. It was obvious that the bird could sense her friends animagus form, as it was continually casting wary glances towards the the part-time feline.

Finally, after a rather tricky apparation, they found themselves in a specially warded alcove on Charing Cross Road. Given that one of their party was a rather stubborn owl, Poppy quickly found herself chuckling as said bird immediately jumped into the air with a squawk and used its wing to cuff Minerva on the back of her head. She found the sight of her friend doing her damnedest to glare at the bird to be very humorous. As far as she was concerned, it was her friend's own fault for agreeing to apparate the bird in the first place.

After Hedwig was once again settled upon Harry's shoulder, they finally made their way to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Well, Harry," Poppy said, as she opened the door. "Welcome home."

* * *

**A/N:** (I think finally I understand why authors write these things)

Hmmm. Lots of readers but no reviews. Oh well, at least the readers aren't telling me that the story stinks.

Short note on apparating to the muggle side of the pub. I've read a number of stories where Harry gets apparated directly to the magical side, which makes no sense to me. Harry lives in the muggle world, so needs to know where on Charing Cross Road the pub can be found.

Look out for more of Hedwig et al too. Whilst it wouldn't be a Harry Potter story without Hedwig, you'll find that she actually has a significant role to play in this AU (unlike in canon where she was swapped out in favour of half a dozen stuffed toys)


	6. Gold, Goblins and Goodies

**Chapter 5 – Gold, Goblins and Goodies**

_Buy, purchase, special, deal, thrifty-saver, super-saving, ultimate deal. These are just some of the words that get thrown at us when we walk around a shopping centre. Each word and phrase designed to separate us from our income._

_Every child in the 'Western World' has been taught, from an early age, that we need to make money and then spend it. Then, we need to make some more money and then spend even more than what we have just made, in a never ending cycle of materialism._

_Really though, just how important is money? While one can easily agree with the need to use money to purchase essentials such as food and clothing; all it really takes id one look at a small African tribe, or at a humble monk or nun, to realise that there is much, much more in life than just money._

_If there is one thing that the great depression of the nineteen-thirties can teach us, it is that we, as society, place far to much emphasis on materialistic pleasures. Always keep in mind the immortalised words of John Lennon and Paul McCartney: Money can't by you love._

~oOo~

Home.

Harry couldn't remember ever calling a place 'Home'. He had been living with his relatives for as long as he could remember and they had always taught him that while it may have been _their_ home, he just resided there. It had taken a while for Harry to learn what that meant (in fact it had taken having to ask the librarian at school) but, once he had learned the meaning of the word, it just confirmed what he had thought it would: that he didn't have a home.

With that knowledge in mind, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the Leaky Cauldron. On one hand it looked just like a tavern straight out of some television show about knights and kings. On the other hand, he was simply in awe of what he saw happening around him.

There was a man directing chairs and tables to move around. As in actually_ move_, with legs that were bending in much the same way that his own did. There was an old lady who was stirring the her cup of tea with a spoon; only her hand was a good two inches above the spoon! There was also a man, who appeared to be a waiter of some sort, that was cleaning down one of the tables and managed to make an empty bottle actually _disappear_ by flattening it into the table with his bare hand!

All in all he wasn't sure what he wanted to look at more, but one thing was for certain: he was beginning to really like the idea of learning magic. Especially if he was going to learn how to do all of this! He could just picture the look on his cousin's face if he made dinner serve itself, much like what was happening with man in the far corner.

"So you like the idea of magic, do you?"

Miverva's mirth-filled voice broke him out of his stupor, but the awe and wonder were still in his voice when he replied, "I get to learn all this?"

"All in good time, Harry, all in good time." Minerva chuckled. She always had enjoyed introducing children to the world of magic. "You do need to remember, though, that some of these people have been using magic since long before you were born. You'll get to learn much of what you see here, and more, but you will need to work at it as some things will take a lot of practice to get right."

Harry just nodded slowly to this, his eyes still trying to take in everything around him.

"Come on then," Poppy interjected. "We have a lot to do today, so we shouldn't dally too long," she said as she herded the barely responsive boy towards the corridor leading out to the rear of the pub.

Minerva shrewdly regarded the back of her friend's head for a moment before she too headed toward the entrance to the alley. Many years of dealing with students such as the Weasleys and Marauders told her that Poppy was up to something. She just wasn't sure what.

By the time she caught up with them, Poppy was already showing Harry how to open the gateway.

"Now remember, Harry; it's five up from here, then across three, and down one." she said as she tapped on the correct bricks. "And this," she declared as the gateway opened. "Is Diagon Alley."

If Harry had been wide-eyed before then it was safe to say that his eyes were bugling out of his head by now, as he took in the sight before him. He wasn't the only one either.

Hedwig was also wide-eyed at the sight of London's magical shopping district. But, unlike Harry who was wondering why all shopping centres couldn't look this fun, Hedwig was more in shock at the sheer number of magic users that stood before them. Just how was she supposed to keep the fledgeling safe around this many of them? Squaring her avian shoulders at the daunting task ahead, she resolved to just hold on tight for now. She definitely didn't want to loose sight of the fledgeling here.

~oOo~

Within minutes they were standing outside a very wonky looking, white marble building that Harry had been told was a bank. He wasn't sure how they managed to build it, but he was fairly certain that the whole thing would just tip over if it wasn't for the flimsy-looking building next to it. Just how how a small wooden building could hold up a large marble one, Harry didn't know. In fact, in the short walk down the alley, he was beginning to wonder if his head would explode if he tried to work how they did many of the things that he had seen.

"Here, you better take this now, Harry." Poppy said suddenly, causing Harry to jump a little. He had been so wrapped up in everything he was seeing that he had forgotten what he was here for. Taking the offered envelope from the woman, he turned it over in his hand to see his name on it.

"When we get to the counter, you'll be asked for your key. When you are, just hand over what is in that envelope okay? And remember to be polite to them, you never want to upset a goblin"

"Okay," Harry replied, running his fingers over his name. He had never had a letter before. He was just about to walk into the building when he looked up and blinked. "Excuse me, did you just say _goblin_?"

"Certainly, see that's one there, by the door."

Taking a closer look at what he had originally passed off as a bored looking teenager, he saw one of the ugliest looking creatures he could possibly imagine. It stood there silently, dressed in what looked to be golden armour that had something red poured over it (a passing thought had him praying that it wasn't blood). A glance down to its hands showed long clawed fingers resting upon the handle of of a very nasty looking sword. Almost as though sensing Harry's gaze, the goblin turned to him and snarled, causing Harry to jump backwards, into Minerva. No, he definitely didn't want to upset a goblin.

"It's alright, Harry," Minerva said softly as she rested a hand on his shoulder. "Just stand your ground and you'll be fine."

That was fine for her to say, Harry though, as she wasn't being looked at as though she was about to get chopped in two! Taking a deep breath and swallowing a rather pesky lump that was forming in his throat, Harry managed to shakily nod his head before stepping into the bank, all the while being careful to keep as much distance as he could between himself and the goblin guard.

After a few minutes of waiting in line, they were soon looking up at a goblin teller. Well, Harry was looking up, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were more or less at eye-level with it. Expecting to be asked for a key straight away, Harry was quite surprised when the goblin started sniffing at the air, before leaning over and sniffing at Harry himself. Harry had showered that morning so he knew that he didn't smell bad. Perhaps it was interested in the scent of the Dursley's bath soap?

"What do _you_ want?" it said slowly as it stared Harry in the eye.

"Mr Potter is here to make a personal withdrawal from his vault." Minerva responded in her best no-nonsense manner. Without realising it, she was, for the first time, in agreement with Hedwig's assessment of the situation. Neither of them was liking the way this particular goblin was acting.

"And does _Mr Potter_ have his key?" the goblin somehow said around a snare that had etched its way onto its face as it continued to stare at the boy.

Harry, thinking that perhaps leaving the bank as soon as possible would be a good idea, opened up the envelope he had been given and found a small golden the key up to the goblin, he waited as the creature thoroughly examined it, its eyes occasionally flickering towards Harry.

The sudden yell of "GRIPHOOK!" from the goblin was enough to make Harry jump, but he was most thankful though when the key was thrown back at him, and its attention turned to Professor McGonagall.

"Griphook will take _Mr Potter_ to his vault. Only one of you may accompany him, the _bird -_" it snarled causing Hedwig to glare at it. "- must stay here unless it wishes to become a mid-morning snack for one of our dragons."

"Dragons?" Harry breathed.

"Oh yes, _Mr Potter,_ Gringotts prides itself on its security. You would have to be suicidal to try _anything_ here." the goblin replied, a viscous smile growing on its face. The sight of so many pointed teeth being bared was enough to send a shiver down Harry spine. First goblins, then dragons, what next? Giants? Trolls? Giant snakes? Harry shivered again. Dear God, he thought fervently, _please_ let there _not_ be any giant snakes!

~oOo~

Poppy had never been one to like being around the goblins, as she new that they were very violent creatures. Though, what she had witnessed so far today had shocked her. Never had she seen a child treated like this by a goblin. It was as if the goblin thought that Harry was going to rob the place! It didn't take much for her to decide that if the goblins were going to behave like that, then she wouldn't be of much use if they did decide that Harry was here to rob them.

"Minerva, I think you'd better take Harry down. You know I've never been one for fast moving objects." she said while giving her friend a pointed look.

Minerva wasn't the only one who had been surprised by the abruptness of Poppy's suggestion. Hedwig had actually spun around so fast that she nearly fell off of Harry's shoulder. Taking another look around her, she quickly realised that she wouldn't be of much use if these creatures decided to attack the fledgeling. Her senses were still screaming at her that the older bald female was dangerous. Perhaps these creatures would be able to sense that as well and not try anything.

Reluctantly, Hedwig caught Minerva's eye and bobbed her head, causing Minerva's eyebrows to raise slightly.

Blinking away thoughts of odd avian behaviour, Minerva moved towards the goblin, Griphook. "Come on then, Harry. We have much to do today," she said as Hedwig settled herself upon Poppy's shoulder and rustled nervously.

Hedwig just couldn't shake the feeling that she had sent the fledgeling away with very a dangerous cat.

~oOo~

While Hedwig and Poppy were busily worrying about he same small green-eyed boy (though for rather different reasons), Harry found himself having the wildest ride he had ever had. The wind in his face and the unbelievable, unadulterated _speed_ were more than enough to distract him from the disturbing creature that sat in the front seat of the cart. Never would he have expected to find all of _this_ beneath London.

Minerva, while mildly surprised that Poppy had all but demanded that she accompany Harry, had taken one look at the joy of his boy's eyes as he gazed all around him, and had immediately begun trying to predict which position he would end up playing in Quidditch. He had the small stature of Seeker, but lacked the body mass needed to be able to survive a rough game. He seemed to like speed, so Keeper was definitely out, besides Wood was already a superb keeper. His arms were too scrawny looking for either Beater or Chaser, but that could change if he was bulked up a bit during his first year; something she would have to talk to Wood about. She couldn't help but smile, another Potter quidditch prodigy was just what she needed to rip that trophy out of Severus' hands.

Finally, after enough twists and turns to confuse a homing pigeon, they arrived at a row of vaults in a deep cavern that was lit only by the glowing patterns on the walls.

The goblin got out indicating that the others should follow.

"Key, please," the goblin intoned, sounding completely and utterly board. Harry had to agree, that after such a thrilling ride down here, anything else did feel a bit boring.

Handing over his key, he watched as the goblin stared intently at the door for a moment, then placed the key, not into the keyhole, but directly into the stone door, before turning it. After Harry had heard twelve different 'clunks' come from the door, he found himself having to jump back as a foul smelling green smoke poured out of the vault.

"What is that?" he gasped, trying not to chock on the gas.

"_Security,_" the goblin said around a feral smile. "Be careful you don't breath in any of it."

Harry gulped. These creatures could really be scary when they wanted to. Subconsciously taking a deep breath he cautiously approached the open vault door when the goblin indicated for him to move forward.

The vault itself was nothing more than a small alcove carved into the wall, barely large enough for a few to stand inside it. The first thing Harry noticed within the vault was what looked to be like a pirate's treasure chest sitting upon a stone ledge. Assuming that this was where he would find the money that he had been told was his, he opened the chest and felt his jaw drop. It was fill to the brim with odd looking coins, some of which he could easily tell were made out of gold and silver.

"You parents wanted you to have this, Harry." Minerva said softly from just behind him, causing Harry to close his mouth with a click of his teeth. "They may not be with us any more, but that doesn't mean that they can't give you anything. In fact, it looks like there may be something else here they want you to have." she added as she pointed out something he had missed. A wrapped box that was sitting in the corner.

Harry moved over to the box and picked it up, only to notice that it had something written on it. "Happy Eleventh Birthday, Harry. With Love, Mummy and Daddy" he read quietly. "I have a birthday present." he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.

He wasn't quiet enough though, and Minerva smiled sadly at his declaration. Ten years ago, Lily and James had gone to the trouble of getting him a birthday present for his eleventh birthday. Her smile quickly turned into a confused frown as she repeated that thought. Why did they get him a present for his eleventh birthday, when the boy had yet to even turn two? Her confusion was also quickly replaced with anger, the more she thought about what he had said. She was beginning to get the feeling that she had been too easy on the Dursleys, earlier on.

"How much do I need to take?"

Harry's simple question broke her from her concerns, thankfully before they turned to the illegal sport of muggle-hunting. She gave Harry a small smile before pulling a tiny pouch out of her pocket and giving it to him. It was something that she had made for him the previous night (sort of birthday present one could say), after Poppy had explained about the boy's vault.

"Fill this up with a mixture of coins. You will be spending quite a bit today and you will also want to have some spending money while you are at school. All together, you will probably want to have at least twenty of each.

"Now, the gold ones are galleons. There are seventeen silver sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine bronze knuts to a sickle. You'll probably find the different currency will take a little bit to get use to, but don't worry, it's very simple and I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time.

"Actually," she added as she took in his attire. "you may want to make that twenty-five galleons and twenty of the others."

Harry wondered how he was to fit sixty-five of the strange coins into such a tiny pouch but was quite surprised when he managed to fit, not only the first five galleons, but his whole hand, and half of his forearm as well . Turning in shock back to Minerva, he rather eloquently asked: "Huh?"

"You will find that magic does have its uses here and there," she tried to say whilst keeping a straight face. The look on his face had been priceless.

After Harry put the rest of the money into the tiny pouch, they climbed back into the cart and raced back up towards the bank, but not before Minerva had done something to the money pouch.

"To make sure that nobody accidentally picks it up while thinking that it's theirs," she had said explained as she tied the notice-me-not enchantment into Harry. She wasn't sure if the boy understood just how much money he was now carrying. If her calculations were correct, then he was carrying the equivalent of just under two-thousand pounds, which would prove rather tempting for pick-pockets, on either side of the Leaky Cauldron.

Unlike the ride down, the ride up was an introspective one for Harry. He had a number of things to think about, now that he had been to his vault. There was the fact that his parents had left him some money to use, however strange-looking the odd coins were. There was also the birthday present that had been waiting for him. That was the most confusing for him. He had been told that his parents had died unexpectedly, when he one a little over one year old. Why then, did they get him a birthday present for a birthday ten years later?

Minerva had noticed Harry's quietness on the way up but didn't say anything. She had a fairly good idea about what he was thinking and, even though she didn't know much about it, she might have been able to give some answers to him. She chose not to mention anything yet, as she felt that maybe it would be best if he first worked out which questions he wanted to ask.

As they exited the vault tunnel and re-entered the main bank, Harry's mood instantly changed when Hedwig let out a number of excited barks as she flew over to Harry and retook her perch on her charge's shoulder. Not for the first time that day, Minerva wondered just how difficult it would be to separate these two once they got to Hogwarts.

After making sure that Harry changed some of his galleons into pounds (which resulted in a curious glance from Poppy until she was subtly directed to the state of his clothing), Minerva guided her companions back out into the summer sun. She had a flutter of anticipation in her stomach and a slight grin on her face. It was shopping time.

~oOo~

If Harry had thought that shopping with his Aunt had been a chore, he had rapidly changed his mind as the professor and healer took him from shop to shop, making the necessary purchases for his trip to Hogwarts.

Their first stop had been to get him some suitable travelling luggage for his trip to the school, and to serve as somewhere to store his larger items. He had ended up purchasing a old-fashioned steamer trunk which had some small enchantments that made it twice as deep than it looked, so that he would be able to fit his cauldron into it. It was also enchanted to make it light enough that Harry wouldn't have to exhaust himself trying to carry it around.

"It's got just enough heaviness in it so's a muggle won't be suspicious if they pick it up," the shop keeper had said.

The wheels on it where something that Harry had thought of. He had seen them on he Dursleys' luggage and Professor McGonagall was more than happy to transfigure a set for him.

His first purchase had also led to his first ever magic lesson, from Professor McGonagall. Apparently he should never try shrinking his trunk because of the twice-as-deep thing, something the professor referred to as contradictory enchantments. He didn't exactly understand they reason behind it, but he did understand what might happen if it tried. Apparently, one of the senior students had tried it this year on their own enchanted trunk. As their trunk shrunk down in size, it had expelled all of its contents upon the train platform in the process. It was a lesson that Harry wanted to make sure he remembered.

And so the morning went by, buying a telescope for star gazing, quills and ink for writing, and parchment and notebooks for essays and note taking. Professor McGonagall had told him that he should take time to practice with the quill as much as he could before school started, so that he would be comfortable using it.

He wasn't quite sure about the clumsy looking writing instrument and a whispered comment from Madam Pomfrey had him also purchasing a pair of fountain pens. She had told him that the quills were only compulsory for tests, which had earned herself a glare from Professor McGonagall in the process. Harry noticed this and clearly got the impression that he had better use a quill for taking notes in the professor's classes.

After that incident, they had visited a cauldron shop for his potion equipment and the apothecary to get his potion ingredients. Upon taking one sniff of some slimy green things in one of the jars, Harry fervently hoped that he wouldn't be forced to drink anything that he made with these ingredients.

Throughout the whole shopping experience, Harry was amazed that not one shop keeper complained about him having an owl perched on his (rather numb) shoulder which Hedwig still refused to leave. He guessed that maybe having an owl on your shoulder was just a common thing with witches and wizards, even though he was sure that all the stories that he knew of said that they kept cats rather than owls.

Eventually, they only had a couple more shops to visit. After finishing in the bookshop, where he had purchased more school books than could possibly be legal to force upon on an eleven year-old, they made their way to a shop called _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.

"You should be okay by yourself in this one, Harry," Professor McGonagall told him. "Madam Pomfrey and I will wait over there at that tea shop with your trunk. There's a few things I need to talk to her about while you get fitted."

"What was it you wanted to talk about, Minerva," asked Poppy as she watched Harry enter the shop by himself. She had been wondering when her friend would start bombarding her with questions, and it sounded like it was about to begin.

"Oh, nothing. I just can't stand being in that shop. Every time I go in there, Sally goes on and on about this or that. I swear, that woman could be easily be a writer for Witch Weekly. I think a nice cuppa would a much more productive way to pass the time while we wait for Harry, don't you?"

~oOo~

"What's a muggle-born?" Harry asked as he rejoined the Professor and Healer in the tea shop.

"It's a person who was born to non-magical parents, or muggles as many people call them," replied Minerva, the curiosity evident in her voice. "Why?"

"I was just called one, is all."

"Well, if you want to get picky about it, you would be what people call a half-blood. That is your father was a pure-blood wizard and your mother was a muggle-born witch."

"Oh. Why the different names? Is it important?"

"No, not at all. They're a waste of time if you ask me," the healer interjected. The last thing she wanted was the child of Lily Potter getting wrapped up in that nonsense. "Come on, one more stop before we head into Muggle London."

Walking into the last store on his journey though Diagon Alley, Harry shivered as he felt the air change around him. Whereas outside it was warm and sunny, in here it was dark and... thick.

"Ah, another muggle-born wizard, I see."

Harry let out a startled yelp as he spun to face an old man with white hair that was crazier than his own. "Sorry," he said feeling a bit sheepish. "I didn't see you there."

"I know," was the simple answer. "And what would your name be?" he was asked as the old man stared strangely at him.

"Harry, Sir. Harry Potter."

"_Potter_?" The old man looked over to the two elderly witches whom were just settling down into a pair of chairs. "Any relation to to...?"

"Her son," the professor replied slowly while she gave the old man an odd look.

The old man blink a few times before turning back to staring closely at Harry.

"Oh, yes. You have you mother eyes." the old man (who Harry assumed had to be the Ollivander person he had been told about) murmured while staring at Harry. "I remember when she was in her getting her first wand," he continued as he backed up and moved behind the counter. "Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow with a unicorn hair core. Nice wand for charm work. Which is your wand arm Mr Potter?"

"Huh? Oh, uh... right?" he replied as he watched a tape measure spring up from the counter at just a wave of Mr Ollivander's hand. Said tape measure began measuring all sort of things that Harry never thought anyone would want to know. After all, just who would want to know the distance between his nostrils? Or the length of his little finger?

"Your father, on the other hand," Ollivander continued as he headed into the back of the shop. "He favoured a mahogany wand with a phoenix feather core. One of the few remaining phoenix wands. Quite picky they are about just who can pluck their feathers. It's a pity there aren't that many of them left."

The old man seemed to pause in his movements for a second while he cocked his head, as though listening to something. After a moment he shook his head and continued to pull various small boxes off of the shelves.

"Well, I say your father favoured it when really it's the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. Cut that out!" he snapped when he returned with an armload of small boxes.

At his command the tape measure, which at that stage was measuring the length of Hedwig's beak, fell to the floor lifeless. For a moment, Harry had thought that the man had snapped at him, he quickly realised though that it was the tape measure that he had been talking to.

"Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heart string," he said as he presented Harry with a wand.

Harry, not knowing what to do just picked it up and gave him a raised an eyebrow, something he had been practising off an on all day, after seeing Professor McGonagall do it.

"We go on, give it a wave!"

Feeling quite foolish, Harry waved the wand. Nothing happened. He was about to wave it again, when Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand and placed it to the side after frowning slightly at the wand.

And so it went, on and on, for over two hours, until Harry was certain he had tried every wand in the shop. Many of them didn't seem to do anything, while others tended to react rather violently. He was very happy that Professor McGonagall had been present to repair the front door of the shop.

"Curious, very curious," Mr Ollivander muttered. "You are a very interesting wizard, Mr Potter. Particularly when you consider that any wand with a dragon heartstring core simply refuses to work for you. You know, it's been a while since I came across a challenge like this. Why, it's almost as though... my word, I wonder if... hmm... well they both seem to defy the rules..."

Ollivander's muttering faded out as the man once more headed into the back of the shop. Harry was beginning to believe that maybe it had all been a big mistake and that he wasn't really a wizard after all. In fact, if it wasn't for the presence of Hedwig and the encouragement of Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey, then he would have given up an hour and a half ago. Although, with how nervous Madam Pomfrey was looking at the moment, Harry had to wonder how much she believed her own encouragement.

His glum mood was eventually broken by what could only be described as an odd sight, even for this shop. Mr Ollivander was walking back towards him with another wand box, only this one was _levitating_ four inches above his hand. "This, Mr Potter," he said, "is one of the last wands that my father made. One of things that I learned very early on, when this particular wand passed into my care, was that that it was best if I didn't touch it. It's also the reason why I refuse to work with this particular type of core. Eleven inches," he said as he waved the top of the box open, "veela hair and," he paused to read the label on the box, "and beech."

Harry tentatively put his hand out. The wand maker didn't want to touch it, so he couldn't help but feel concerned. However, as soon as he had wrapped his hand around the handle of the rather plain looking wand, he knew that he had found his wand, or rather his wand had found him. There were no fancy light-shows like one might have imagined, and _thankfully_ no great explosions like the sphinx-hair wand that had blown up the front door. But Harry _knew_. It was like hearing music on the edge of one's perception, or feeling the gentle hum of traffic vibrating though the pavement.

Apparently, Harry wasn't the only one who could tell, although that may have been because of the biggest smile that Harry could remember, braking out up his face.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. I must say that I am pleased that that particular wand has finally chosen a worthy owner. Curious though... Anyway, I expect we will see some very interesting things from you, Mr Potter. Oh, yes, yes, _very_ interesting"

Harry handed over the money for his new wand and left the shop with a happy, and noticeably relieved, smile on his face. At 7 galleons, 9 sickles and a single knut, it was easily the most expensive item that he had purchased that day, coming in at a almost the same amount of all his other purchases added together.

~oOo~

Roman Ollivander frowned as he watched his latest customer walk back down the alley. He bent down to pick up his enchanted tape measure and his frown deepened when he examined it closely though his glasses; the tape measure didn't appear to be broken.

The way the wands had reacted to the boy contradicted everything he had learnt over the years about wand crafting. If the tape measure was indeed working correctly, then that meant that that was one very peculiar child. The second one he had had in the past few years. Well, at least he had gotten rid of that thrice-damned wand and had not needed to have to try and make another custom one. Trying to a make a wand to match a specific wizard or witch was next to impossible and not very enjoyable.

He glanced back out the window at the boy and slowly shook his head. He was positive that his father had been drunk when he had made that wand.

~oOo~

Harry returned to the Dursley's just in time for his Aunt to order him to start preparing dinner as soon as he had placed his trunk up in his room.

After leaving Diagon Alley, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had taken him to a nearby shopping centre, where they had eaten a very late lunch. Afterwards, they had taken him to some clothing shops where he was able to buy clothes that fit properly, for once.

He had been warned that he couldn't go shopping while at Hogwarts, so the sales ladies made sure that he had some larger clothes as well. At the end of it all, it had been an eventful day, one that had all of them tired out, but that hadn't stopped Hedwig from flying back to Little Whinging. Harry didn't blame her, that apparating business was downright nasty.

As he lay in bed that night, a smile grew on his face. In only one months time, he would be off to magic school. Finally in a place where he could be considered normal and a place where he could learn to control his abnormality and make use it, rather than trying to hide it. It also helped that he wouldn't have to endure his cousin for ten months.

Harry slept peacefully that night, not once realising that in all the excitement of the day, he had forgotten to unwrap his birthday present.

~oOo~

Poppy and Minerva were sitting in Minerva's private sitting room as they listened to the WWN's evening show. They had both managed to accomplish what they wanted regarding their young wayward wizard. Minerva still had some unanswered questions about just where Poppy sat in the whole scheme of things but, for now, she was content to leave those for another day.

"What house, Minerva?" Poppy asked suddenly.

"Sorry?"

"What house do you think he'll be in?"

"Gryffindor, definitely."

"You sound sure," she chuckled

"I have a sickle here that says that he is."

"Hmm."

"What do you think?"

"Honestly?"

"Naturally."

"Well..."

~oOo~

Sullenly, Hedwig settled onto her perch for the night, in a tree by the neighbourhood park. She couldn't believe how _stupid _she had been!

When she had arrived back, she had been cornered by the others and thoroughly chastised. Apparently there had been a slight panic when the shift change had occurred, resulting in many owls frantically flying around Surrey, looking for the both of them. Her punishment for causing the emergency had been to be taken off of the watching rotation.

With the fledgeling about to head off to school, she was now all but banned from being part of the group that would accompany him. With how things were looking at the moment, she had no chance of being picked now. She would have to stay here, unless... Yes. Yes, that might just work.

Hedwig sat up a little straighter on her perch. She had some planning to do.

* * *

**A/N:**

As some may have already realised, I'm not a fan of super-rich!Harry stories; where Harry is the richest person in the world and splurges thousands upon thousands on a single shopping trip. In case you are interested in in conversion rates, I'm of the school of though that JKR's explanation on the worth of a galleon has makes no sense. For this story I started out with the value of a knut to be about 10-15p and then worked up to a galleon being about £75.

The contradictory enchantment thing... I felt that the shrinking expanded trunk thing had been used a few too many times so I came up with a law of magic which said that a something cannot be two contradicting things at the same time (e.g. something cannot be big and small at the same time). Has anyone noticed, though, that nowhere in canon is something with an expansion enchantment ever shrunk. (I'm happy to be proven wrong on this point)


	7. The Children on the Train go Up and Down

**Chapter 6 – The Children on the Train go Up and Down...**

_Throughout history the many diverse cultures of humanity have all shared certain similarities that only serve to define us as human beings. One such similarity is the Rite of Passage. Whether it be a lone hunting expedition through the wilderness, participating in the Big O.E. or becoming a Bat/Bar Mitzvah, these rites of passage offer us a way to highlight key points in our lives._

_In many cases such rites are purely symbolic and hold no special meaning for the person undergoing the rite. However, there are also those for whom the rite is a very special event, as it allows them to shed themselves of a life which has thus far been a burden for them, and to embrace the future which lies ahead._

_It is for these people, that we should never belittle such traditions._

~oOo~

The remaining weeks of the summer holidays proved to be a rather stressful time within the Dursley household.

Petunia spent most of her time trying to avoid her nephew as much as was physically possible; even to the point of taking over most of the housework so that she wouldn't have to see him roaming about the house, completing his chores. On the few occasions where she was required to interact with him, she had resorted to using very short, crisp sentences. Usually something along the lines of _'Go away, Boy.'_

Harry was starting to become concerned for her, as he had noticed that she seemed to have had trouble walking lately. He knew very well that some of the cleaning products that his aunt preferred to purchase had the ability to leave him feeling a little bit light-headed. But even so, Harry had _never_ had trouble walking in a straight line when using them.

Vernon, on the other hand, wasn't trying to avoid Harry as far as the boy could tell. Neither was he trying to get in Harry's way. In fact, it now often seemed that he didn't realise that Harry was there at all. The few times that Harry had needed to talk to Vernon, his uncle had ended up taking on a peculiar expression which reminded Harry of a rather disturbing cross between a sun-burned sumo wrestler, a rampaging bull and a highly nervous chiwawa. Needless to say that Harry rapidly learned to remain as inconspicuous as possible when around his uncle.

When Dudley had discovered that Harry had not only been taken shopping for new school things but new clothes as well, he had immediately started demanding that he be taken shopping as well. The fact that he had been taken shopping for his Smelting things the previous week didn't seem to matter to him at all. Even so, that particular incident was nothing compared to when Dudley had discovered that Harry had actually received a birthday present. The resulting tantrum had highlighted to Harry that his cousin was of the firm belief that if Harry received a birthday present, then Dudley should receive two. Even if it wasn't his birthday.

Dudley, as it turned out, had actually become a welcome constant in Harry's life and Harry had no choice but to admit that that was a very depressing thought. Looking forward to being picked-on and chased couldn't possibly be a sign of a healthy mental well-being.

Later, Harry would say that he wasn't sure how he would have survived that month of August, if it weren't for three things. One was a beautiful white owl whom Harry had named Hedwig, and had become a near constant companion over that particular month. Another was the fact that he would soon be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he was finally going to be with other people that were different, like him. The final thing (and the most treasured) was the birthday present that his parents had left for him.

Within this present, Harry had discovered both a letter and a colourfully wrapped parcel from each of his parents. His mother had given him a small collection of journals which appeared to chronicle her time at Hogwarts, the same school that Harry was soon to attend. He had already started reading the first one, trying to discover what the school was like; but he had quickly discovered that his mother was a very avid writer and seemed to never run out of things that needed to be written. As such, in the four-and-a-bit weeks of August, he had only just managed to finish the first three weeks of the journal entries.

That itself led to a rather curious question for Harry; he just couldn't work out how such a small book could contain so many pages. He suspected magic, but would have really liked something to explain what was happening because then he could perhaps reduce the sheer volume of course books that he was required to take with him to Hogwarts.

His father's parcel remained sealed. Try as he might, Harry still had now idea what was contained within it. The only clue that his father had given him was that only a marauder would know how to open it. He had needed to sneak his aunt's crossword dictionary out of the living room one night just to find out what a marauder was. But just how a pirate or a viking would be able to open the package, Harry didn't know; especially when it had already proven stubbornly resistant to scissors, knives and even his brand new magic wand (not that he knew how to use it yet, of course).

While such a predicament would have greatly frustrated his cousin, Harry actually found it to be like a rather fun puzzle. Kind of like that many-coloured cube puzzle that he had rescued when Dudley had thrown it away in frustration when he was unable to solve it. Harry was also unable to solve it, but there was just something about it that kept drawing him back to it every now and again.

And so it was like this, that the final weeks of summer had passed for the residents of the Dursley household. Until the final day arrived; the thirty-first of August.

~oOo~

Harry knew that if he didn't ask it soon, then it would likely be too late and he did _not_ want to remain here for a whole year when he could be learning how to be a wizard. And _that_ was the problem. Hogwarts was not in Little Whinging, or in Surrey; so in order to get there he would need to take a train.

To catch the train, Harry first had to get to London.

"Un..." Harry croaked, before stopping to clear his throat. "Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon continued to stare at the television but eventually grunted to show that he was listening.

"I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow. To... to get to school. Professor McGonagall said that you were going to be taking me?" he half asked.

His uncle sat still for a moment, not saying anything, although Harry could have sworn he that had heard what had suspiciously sounded like a growl coming from the man.

"What time do you have to be there?" his uncle eventually asked.

"The train leaves at eleven."

His uncle let out a half grunt, half growl. Harry took this to be a reluctant 'yes', so he turned around and was about to head back to his room (to double-check that he had everything packed) when his uncle spoke once more.

"Funny way to get to a wizards school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harry paused and turned back to his uncle. He didn't say anything though, as he was thinking about what Uncle Vernon had just said. He had already pondered this himself, a number of times. and had not been able to come up with an answer. He hadn't thought of the magic carpet option, though.

"Where is this school, anyway?" Uncle Vernon asked.

"I wasn't told. All I was told was that I need to be on the train leaving from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock."

His uncle turned and stared at him, before scoffing. "_Nine and three-quarters_?" he asked incredulously. "There's no such thing!"

"I was told that it was hidden. That you wouldn't be able to see it"

"_Hidden_ platform? What a load of rubbish. You can't just hide a train platform, the tracks will always show where it is!" He paused for a moment, and a viscous gleam started to shine in his eyes, "Alright then, I'll drive you to London tomorrow. The _walk back _will do you good!"

Finally having the confirmation that he had been seeking, Harry quickly made his way upstairs before his uncle could change his mind. Harry smiled; he was finally going to go to magic school. He couldn't help but think a little niggling thought though: what if his Uncle was right and there was no platform? Or what if there _was_, but that he couldn't find it? He _really _didn't like the idea of having to walk back to Little Whinging.

That night, Harry's dreams were filled with visions of long treks along the motorway on a rainy day.

~oOo~

The following morning saw Harry being abruptly awoken by his uncle, long before the sun had even risen. Harry realised that he should have expected this, and even though he didn't like it, he had to agree that Uncle Vernon was correct: having the neighbours see him get into his uncle's car with a sizeable trunk was likely to raise too many questions. He had had many years in which to get use to being the only abnormal person in the area, and now that he was going to be learning how to use magic he figured that it would only get worse.

Uncle Vernon's plan of getting Harry away from Privet Drive without being seen wasn't quite successful. Whilst Harry was putting his trunk into the boot of the station wagon, a flutter of wings was heard moments before a snowy white owl settled upon Harry's shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you, Hedwig," Harry murmured as he stroked the owls feathers. He was thankful that Uncle Vernon was still eating his breakfast as it allowed him some time alone to say goodbye to Hedwig.

Contrary to what Harry believed, Hedwig was having none of that type of talk. After letting out an angry bark she cuffed Harry on the back of his head with her wing.

"Hey!" cried Harry as he did his best to dodge the offending appendage. "What's that for? You already knew I was going to go away to school. If only you knew where it was, then you could join me."

Hedwig stared at him for a moment before jumping from his shoulder and gliding through the open door to the boot of the car and perched on the backrest of the rear seat.

"Hedwig! What are you doing? Uncle Vernon won't want you in there."

Harry climbed into the boot to try to get Hedwig out of the car, but Hedwig just flew over to the front passenger seat. By the time Harry had climbed out of the boot and had gone around to open the front door, Hedwig was already back in the boot. This game of cat and mouse, or rather boy and bird continued for a few moments, before Harry gave up in defeat. It was no use, Hedwig just wouldn't get out of the car.

"Oh, Hedwig," Harry whined. "You have to believe me, Uncle Vernon will probably hurt you if he sees you in there." Hedwig still wouldn't move.

"Please, we can't let him see you, we have to..." Harry's voice trailed off as his eyes got a far away look. "Of course! Hedwig, get in the back seat and stay quiet," he instructed as he ran to the boot of the car, where he opened his trunk and started rummaging around.

Hedwig, feeling quite smug now that her pan had succeeded, did just as instructed and once more perched herself upon the backrest of the rear seat. Expecting that to be the end of the argument, she was rather surprised when the fledgeling dropped an empty book bag on top of her and scooped her off of her perch. Letting out a startled squawk, she did her best to escape from the sudden imprisonment.

"Hedwig, please," Harry implored. "You have to stay hidden and stay quiet, or he'll know your here. Please, listen to me. This way you can come with me to Hogwarts."

It was as if Harry had spoken magic words. After glaring daggers at him, Hedwig settled herself in for a rather unpleasant car ride stuck inside a book bag. She only hoped that the others would never learned of this. An owl should _never_ have to smuggle themselves like this. Such indignity!

~oOo~

Given that it was a Sunday, there was very little traffic on the roads this early in the morning. As such, they ended up arriving outside King's Cross just before breakfast time. After carefully removing his book bag from the back seat, Harry retrieved his trunk from the boot. As soon as the boot was closed, he watched in surprise as his uncle drove away without saying a single word, leaving Harry standing, alone, on the side of the road.

Shaking it off, he quickly make sure that no one was watching, before freeing Hedwig from her confinement. Glancing at his watch (another 'rescued' item from when Dudley got a new one for his birthday this year) he saw that the train wasn't set to leave for _four hours_.

"It looks like were going to have a bit of a wait, Hedwig," he said while he cleared out the stray feathers from his bag and put its original contents back into place. A rumbling from his stomach told him that it was likely to be a long wait, as he hadn't had any breakfast yet.

With a sudden determined look, Harry rummaged around for the money pouch that Professor McGonagall had given him. If he remembered correctly, there should be some normal money in it. There was probably going to be a café in the train station, where he could get something to eat.

After managing to purchase his first ever café breakfast, Harry secluded himself at a table in an out of the way corner of the train station and pulled out one of his new school books. If he was going to have to wait four hours for the train, then he was going to need something to do.

While Harry was doing this, Hedwig had managed to find herself a perch up near the ceiling of the station and had begun her watch; all the while watching out for the others. She couldn't be seen until she was at the school, otherwise they would likely turn her away. The only reason that she hadn't been spotted so far was that she had managed to convince the near-ancient Hoot-twoot-click that she had been reinstated as a Watcher, and had been told to relieve him early this morning. She wasn't overly proud at having to deceive the old bird, but it had been a necessary evil to allow for her to get this far.

~oOo~

The sudden appearance of an white owl in the middle of the table made Harry jerk backward in surprise from where he had been reading his new herbology book. While not an overly fascinating book, he figured that it was the safest to read amongst the other people passing through King's Cross station.

"Hedwig? What's wrong girl? We still have another -" Harry checked his watch, "ten minutes to before the train leaves."

Hedwig didn't move, but continued to stare intently at him. Soon enough, Harry realised what it was that he had just said and, after double-checking the time, he paled.

"_Ten minutes!_ Hedwig, we're going to miss the train!"

~oOo~

The people who worked at King's Cross station had all heard the stories. Each year, near the end of summer, strange people could be seen wandering around, if you knew what to look for. Why, just last year a junior train driver had sworn that he had seen an entire family walking down the platform next to his train, still wearing their bath robes.

Such sightings had traditionally been centred around the vicinity of platforms nine and ten. Strangely enough though, whenever they tried to check the security camera footage, they kept discovering that their cameras had stopped working. The cameras never showed any signs of tampering or damage, but each one had simply stopped working and needed to be replaced.

This year the recently promoted head of security was prepared and ready to finally get to the bottom of one of the greatest mysteries in King's Cross history. After calling in a favour he was owed from a friend from New Scotland Yard, he had managed to acquire a number of fancy, camouflaged cameras which had now been installed around the two platforms in question.

When the call finally come through to him, about someone seeing a young boy running between platforms nine and ten, whilst pulling a old-fashioned steamer trunk and being chased by a white owl, he knew that his planning had paid off. Unfortunately, a review of the recent footage from the hidden cameras showed that the boy looked to be completely normal. The only thing really odd about him was that there owl perusing him.

He had noted one intriguing thing though: two of the cameras had shown the boy running down the space between the two (currently empty) platforms, but not one of them had shown him returning. Going back further into the footage uncovered more people heading in the same direction, most of whom were average looking families. In each case though, the cameras all showed that any child whom appeared to be of secondary school age disappeared in the same fashion as the boy that had been chased by the owl.

The head of security now knew that something decidedly odd was happening here, and he was going to find out what.

~oOo~

Harry stood there for a moment, gasping for breath and trying to not to think about what he had just done. It wasn't every day that one ran, full speed, into a brick wall. He had even come to the conclusion (just before he had impacted the wall, in fact) that this had to have been the craziest things that he had ever done. Just what sort of crazy person would came up with _that_ idea?

"All aboard!" a man shouted from the head of the train.

Groaning at the thought of having to run once more, Harry grabbed his trunk and hurriedly moved towards the train before climbing into the nearest carriage. Hedwig swooped in shortly afterwards, to regain her perch upon Harry's shoulder.

"Oy!" Harry complained as Hedwig gripped his shoulder tightly. "We made it didn't we?"

Hedwig responded by turning away from him.

"Okay, okay, so we nearly missed the train, but we're still here aren't we? There's no need to... Oh, just forget it," Harry grumbled as as he took stock of where he was.

Hedwig turned and gently nipped at his ear. She hadn't liked having the fledgeling rush through the crowded station as she had been hard pressed to stay on guard. But he was right; they were here now and that was what really mattered.

Harry had entered the train carriage closest to the entrance to the platform, which placed them at about the middle of the train. Mentally flipping a coin, Harry chose to move towards the front of the train, swaying a bit as it started to roll out of the station. He had passed through two of the carriages on his search for a place to sit, and had already received many curious looks along the way. Obviously it wasn't every day that a student comes running though the barrier just in time to jump onto the train.

Another carriage later and Harry finally managed to find a compartment which looked suitable. Well, it didn't have anyone in it that looked intimidating, which to Harry was very suitable. In fact the current occupants looked like they may be some of his future class-mates. Taking a calming breath and squaring his shoulders as well as he could (a delicate task when one has a sizeable owl resting upon one of them), Harry slid the door open.

"Uh, Hi. Sorry for intruding, but everywhere else looks full. Um, do you mind if I sit in here?" he asked. His hands were already starting to sweat as he thought back to what would likely happen in his old school if he were to ask a question such as that. He couldn't help but wonder if that would happen here as well.

The brown-haired boy before him stood, and stepped towards Harry, causing Harry to halfway lift a foot in preparation for a sudden retreat. Years of experience were preparing him for what had always been the inevitable. He was therefore surprised when the boy stuck out his hand, not in an attack, but as an offering.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," the boy declared in a posh accent.

Tentatively taking the boys hand, he answered. "Harry... Harry Potter."

"_Harry_ _Potter_? Are you _really_?" asked a bushy haired girl, who was already in her uniform. She practically launched herself out of her seat towards the two boys. "_You're_ Harry Potter? The only son of _the _Lily Potter?" she asked as she stood next to the Justin, who just turned to stare at her in confusion.

"Uh... yes?" Harry responded slowly.

"Oh I've read all about her, oh, and you of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, you see. Your mother's in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. She's sort of become my hero you know, well _heroine_ actually, given that she was a muggle-born witch like me."

"She... what?" Harry asked, feeling rather dazed by the girl's delivery.

"_Goodness_, didn't you know? I'd have been sure to find out _everything_ that I could about her if she was _my_ mother," replied the girl. "Do you know what house you'll be in? Oh, that was a silly question, you'd _bound_ to be in the same house that your mother was. I only wish that I can get sorted there as well. They say that even Dumbledore was a Gryffindor. Oh my! Where are my manners? I'm Hermione Granger."

Blinking at the hand that she thrust out at him, he tentatively accepted it, only to have it shaken rather enthusiastically. Harry couldn't help but wonder if the girl would hyperventilate if she knew that he was currently reading through his mother's journals. Realising that it would probably be best left for when someone like Madam Pomfrey was nearby, he decided to leave that little revelation until later. _Much_ later.

After a few awkward moments, Justin and Hermione finally returned to their seats, allowing Harry to stow his trunk and sit down himself.

"Oh what a _beautiful_ owl," Hermione cooed, causing Hedwig to stand up proudly from the perch she had made of the backrest of Harry's seat. "What's its name?"

"Hedwig," Harry replied, as he grinned at said avian's antics. "And, judging by her reaction, I think she likes your compliment."

"Oh, I _wish_ my mother had let me buy and owl. They're ever so handy, I've been told. They can carry your mail and everything, so buying your own can only be a good idea. I read in _Hogwarts, a History_ that the school has a large collection of owls that students are allowed to use, so I guess I'll just have to use one of those for now."

Harry screwed his face up in confusion as he processed what Hermione had just said. "Why would someone sell an owl? And for that matter, why would an _owl_ carry mail?"

Hermione didn't answer that question. Harry couldn't help but feel that he had managed to induce a bout of confusion in her. It was known to happen from time to time at the Dursleys, usually before he got berated for being stupid.

"Professor Flitwick said that all mail in the wizarding world is carried by owl," Justin helpfully supplied. "So, I guess if you want your mail delivered, then you're going to need an owl. Where did you buy that one from?"

"Uh, I didn't buy her."

"Oh, I take it it was a gift then?"

"No, she... well, she just lives in the park near my relatives house... and... well... she didn't want to get out of my uncle's car this morning." Harry couldn't help but feel that his answer was more than a little bit odd.

"You kidnapped an _owl_?" cried Hermione, rejoining the conversation. Her sudden increase in volume was more than enough to startle the other occupants in the compartment. "I can't _believe _you would do something like that to the poor innocent creature," she continued, causing Hedwig to ruffle her feathers in agreement. She may not have thought of herself as a poor creature, but the book bag incident was definitely_ not _an experience that she wished to repeat.

"Humph, your mother would be ashamed of you, Harry Potter. She would never have agreed to the kidnapping of a defenceless creature! I'm going for walk, and _you_ should think about what you've done."

And with that Hermione rose and strode out of the compartment. Turning towards the compartment's only other remaining non-feathered occupant, he saw that Justin was alternating his confused gaze between Harry and the door through which Hermione had just left.

"But she wouldn't let me to leave her behind," Harry said lamely to the closed door.

~oOo~

Hermione's walk ended up taking just over an hour. When she did return, she just harrumphed at Harry, pulled out a book titled _'Hogwarts, A History'_ and started reading. Harry wasn't sure which was better, the hour where he had been stuck in awkward conversation with a boy whom would likely to have never spoken to him, if it weren't for the fact that they were both wizards; or after said hour, where he had had to deal with the awkward silence and occasional glare coming from Hermione.

Shortly after Hermione's return, he was saved from the awkwardness by a knock on the door.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" asked an elderly lady after she had opened the door.

Harry hadn't really thought about it much, but a glance at his watch told him that it was past lunch time already. In all his nervousness he hadn't realised just how hungry he was. After all, it had been about five hours since he had eaten breakfast.

Leaving the compartment to get some lunch, he expected to find the trolley carrying sandwiches and juice. Instead, Harry was rather surprised to find that the old lady's food trolley consisted of nothing but sweets and chocolates, the likes of which he had never heard of before. Completely at a loss as to what was what, he grabbed a small selection of food and returned to his seat.

"Ugh!" said Hermione as she scrunched her nose up. "You are going to rot your teeth if you eat all that. My parents are both dentists, so they made sure to pack me a healthy lunch today." Almost as if to prove her point, she promptly pulled out a carrot stick and began munching on it. Harry couldn't help but envisage her at that moment with large grey ears similar to that cartoon rabbit on the telly which Dudley was always laughing at.

"I'm not sure what my mum packed for lunch," said Justin as he started digging into his bag. Eventually he pulled a brown bag that he opened and peered into it. "Hmm, a couple of salad rolls and juice of some type..." He pulled the juice bottle out for closer examination and raised a sceptical eyebrow at it. "_Nectarine and raspberry_?"

Harry didn't think much about the fruit juice but the filled rolls definitely sounded better to him than all the sweets that he had just bought. After all, he didn't fancy ending up looking like his cousin. Swallowing his sudden increase of nervousness, he glanced over at Justin. This had never worked before, but then again he was getting a chance at a new start with this school... wasn't he?

"Would you like to trade for a roll?" he asked as he held up a packet of something called Chocolate Frogs.

He held it there for a moment while Justin considered and was just about to lower them when Justine shrugged and replied, "Sure, why not?" He reached into the brown bag and passed Harry a roll, while Harry handed him the chocolate frogs.

For the first time, in many years, Harry felt that he might just have found somewhere where he would be accepted. He couldn't help but smile as he shared his roll with Hedwig, who had glided down from where she had been snoozing up on the luggage rack. This act had earned him a few glares from Hermione, but Harry didn't mind for now. Things were looking up for him at the moment and there was no Dudley to prevent him from making friends.

If Harry had known about a phenomenon commonly referred to as Murphy's Law, then perhaps he wouldn't have been feeling quite so optimistic _just_ yet.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" drawled a voice from the door that had opened without them noticing. "This, boys, is what you would refer to as a _Mud Pit_."

Harry looked up from giving Hedwig a bit of ham to see a skinny blond-haired boy snaring at them. Behind him stood a pair of what Harry had to assume were the largest eleven year-olds that he had ever seen; those that weren't his cousin, of course. Whereas Dudley had the general physique of a baby whale, these two looked more like baby gorillas.

Harry found himself fighting that annoying lump in his throat again. Perhaps he wasn't as Dudley-free as he thought he had been.

"I don't know why you three even bothered to get on the train this morning," the boy droned on. "You'll soon find that Hogwarts is no place for people of your meagre abilities. I'd be surprised if you even lasted a single week," he added while casually examining his fingernails.

Harry wasn't sure what to think at that moment, but he did know this routine well. Glancing across to the other seat, he saw that Justin looked rather confused and a bit out of sorts, and Hermione was looking rather pale and worried. He briefly wondered if she had ever encountered bullies before.

While the three children in the compartment were all speechless at the blond boy's comment (though for very different reasons), the fourth occupant was clearly still able to act. With an angry bark and a flurry of wings, Hedwig launched herself from from Harry's knee and flew over to the three interlopers in an attempt to get them to stop interrupting her meal. The girlish squeal which came from the lead bully was enough to make Justin begin sniggering.

"Argh! Get back you mad bird!" the boy cried as he swung his arms up to protect his pointed nose.

The boy tried to back out of the compartment but run into a few obstacles. Namely, baby gorilla one and baby gorilla two. After a few more flaps of her wings, in which Hedwig finally managed to ruffle the boy's slicked hair, the owl returned to her original perch upon the luggage rack, where she glared down at the bullies.

Straightening himself up, the boy spun around towards Harry with an expression of rage upon his face. Even though Harry knew that now was likely to not be the best time to do so, he couldn't help but find humour in the boys expression. Whilst he was used to seeing people going red in the face when they were mad, this boy only seemed to be able to reach a slight shade of pink. In the end, Harry couldn't help himself: he snorted.

"Think that was funny do you?" the boy growled. "_Typical mudblood_, you can't even defend yourself; you need a bird to do it for you. There are many people who have cats on this train, I wonder who would protect you if I arranged for them to pay a visit? I'm sure that I can-"

"What's going on down there?" asked a stern voice from the corridor.

Harry blinked and took stock of the current situation. He was currently standing in front of the lead bully, whom was currently pointing a wand under Harry's chin. Try as he might, Harry couldn't work out how he went from sitting down to standing up without realising it; or what had driven him to stand up in the first place. Rapidly finding himself in uncharted territory, Harry couldn't help but worry that he was about to regret this action.

"Put that wand away!" the same voice snapped. An older boy with red hair had appeared and was looking though the window. "There is no magic allowed on the train. You three, go back to your compartment and leave these people alone."

Still no one moved.

"Now!" he barked, causing everyone but Harry to jump into action.

Eventually, Harry finally sat down and stared at his hands. They were shaking slightly. He couldn't believe he had just done that. If the older boy hadn't come along like that then he would have been in a whole mess of trouble. He really didn't want to imagine exactly what type of trouble, as even without the wand, the baby gorillas looked like they would have been able to do a much better job than Dudley.

"I'm going to be watching you, young man," the older boy coolly said to him. "If I hear of any more disturbances in here, I will be reporting you straight to your head of house when you get sorted."

As the boy turned and left, Harry glanced up from his shaking hands to check the other occupants in the room. Justin was just staring at Harry, while Hermione looked terrified.

"Sorry," he mumbled as he looked back down at his hands.

"S-so you should be," Hermione stammered as she stood up. "Because of you we're already in trouble and might end up expelled before school even starts!"

Hermione then headed out of the compartment and hurried off in the same direction that the older student student had gone. Harry could already hear her trying to explain her innocence.

So much for finally making friends, Harry thought dejectedly.

Hedwig, guessing the fledgeling's state of mind, flew down to his shoulder and butted his head with her own. She had known that the pale one with the greasy tuft of fur wasn't any significant threat, but she couldn't help but feel pleased at how the fledgeling had tried to defend her. She was more than able to look after herself, but it was nice to know that he cared for her too.

~oOo~

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative silence. Harry and Justin only saw Hermione one more time when she came back to collect her trunk and book bag. It was obvious that she had found somewhere else to sit, and the fact that she said as much to Justin while studiously avoiding Harry only made the boy feel depressed. Justin was still talking to Harry though, joking with him even. But Harry just couldn't help but feel that it was only to alleviate the boredom that continual silence would have created.

After what felt like an eternity to Harry, the voice of the conductor could be heard throughout the train, warning them of their upcoming arrival at a place called Hogsmeade and instructing them on what to do. Justin and Harry had barely finished straightening up their new uniforms when the breaks on the train activated, sending Justin sprawling back onto his seat. Harry however, remained standing.

"How is it that I fall flat on my bum, when I'm just standing there, and you've got one foot in the air to retie your shoelace, yet you barely even sway?" Justin humorously grumbled.

"Practice," Harry said, flashing Justin a grin. His first grin since the incident that had caused Hermione to abandon them. It _had_ been practice as well; after all, climbing trees and clambering over obstacles to escape the local bullies tends to bestow a good sense of balance upon a child.

"Humph! Not fair."

"I think we're here," commented Harry as he took note of the old fashioned train station that was now drifting past the darkened window.

"Well, that certainly looks... _rustic_," added Justin as he looked out the window too. Eventually the train came to a halt, and Justin turned to leave. "Come on, let's go see where it is that we're to be living for the next ten months."

It ended up taking them more than a few minutes to get out of the train. Apparently they weren't the only students who wanted off. The ensuing surge in foot traffic was enough to make Harry wonder just how such a small train was able to hold everyone. Perhaps next time he would arrive on time and get to find out.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over 'ere! Firs'-years this way!" called a voice in the darkness.

Harry and Justin looked over in the direction of the voice and saw a lantern floating in the darkness, high above everybody's heads. As the lantern got closer Harry realised that it wasn't floating but was actually being carried by what had to be the largest person on the planet.

"Firs'-years! Come on Firs-years, this way! Over he-" the large man paused suddenly in front of Harry and blinked. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as though trying to say something and eventually narrowed his eyes before asking, "An' what's yer name?"

"Harry, Sir. Harry Potter," Harry replied warily.

The large man seemed to rock back in shock before peering closely at Harry. "Blimey. Yeh look just like yer father. Ye've sure grown though. Why the las' time I saw you, I coul' fit yeh in the palm o' me hand! Rubius Hagrid's me name, bu' just call me Hagrid."

Trying to ignore the giggling that sprung up from a few of the surrounding first-years, Harry took the large hand that was offered to him and shook it. Well, more accurately, Harry's hand was swallowed by the man's dinner-plate sized fist and Harry was promptly shaken from head to foot whilst the large man pumped his arm.

"Welcome back, Harry. C'mon, follow me. Any more firs'-years? Min' yer step, now! Firs'-years, follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, Harry and the other students followed Hagrid down a long winding path which lead away from the train station towards what turned out to be a little sheltered bay that contained a collection of small boats.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, as he climbed into a larger boat which sat in the middle of the fleet. "C'mon now, yeh'll get your firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec, jus' round tha' bend there."

Harry and Justin were followed into a boat by two Indian-looking girls. Harry had blinked owlishly for a moment before he realised that they were actually identical twins. He had heard about twins that looked alike, but had never actually met any before. Hedwig just preened under the ensuing cooing noises they made as soon as they had spotted her.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid. "Righ' then... FORWARD!"

The fleet of boats moved forward, gliding smoothly across the water. As they rounded the bend, Harry realised that they were in fact floating upon a massive highland loch. However, not even the spectacular sight of Hogwarts Castle sitting upon the cliff in front of them could fully take his mind off this fact that he was in a very small boat. You see, Harry had never been allowed to learn how to swim.

"Righ' then, Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as they approached the cliff.

Seeing that they were heading for a small cave, Harry managed to convince Hedwig that it would be better for her to fly up to the castle instead.

"What's the worst that could happen?" he had asked her. Only realising afterwards that there were in fact lots of things that could go wrong while one was stuck in the tiny little boat upon such a large lake.

When they passed through the Hanging Ivy and into the cave, Harry saw that the cave was actually a harbour of some sort, and the boats were arranging themselves neatly along a dock. From the harbour, they clamoured up an impossibly long flight of stone steps which were carved into one of the ridges of the cliff that the school sat upon. At the top of these steps, they passed through a wrought iron gate and found themselves standing in front of the largest set of doors that Harry had ever imagined.

It was upon these doors that Hagrid knocked three times.

* * *

**A/N:** (Bloody hell, the length of the chapters is starting to get away on me)

First up kudos to MartinDeShade for making me realise that I'm getting forgetful in my old age. I meant 'twice as deep' and will plead the fact that Harry only has an eleven year-old's education in calculus and geometry so doesn't know any better. (I'm sure Harry won't mind me blaming it on him this time).

Okay, Hermione fans, please, _please _stop sharpening your pitchforks! I didn't read the HP books until after seeing OotP at the cinema (I was off work with the flu and got bored so decided to pick up a book). As such, my perception of Hermione was tainted by Emma Watson's brilliant performance. Imagine my surprise when I read the first few books and found that (until GoF) Hermione Granger comes across as a self-righteous know-it-all who has little regard for the opinions of others. And _that_ is coming from _Harry's_ perspective. Whether her actions are intentional or accidental, it doesn't change the fact that she was.

Ah yes, _Malfoy_. Well, I never did like that insufferable brat and have never been able to understand why people write him in a positive light. Hedwig doesn't like him either.

Next up: The sorting. I bet you that nobody guesses what the hat's first comment will be when it peers into Harry's mind. I'm so confident that this hasn't been done before, that I'll willingly surrender a free spoiler to the first person who manages to guess correctly before I can post the next chapter, or can show me where it was done before (update: Vukk PM'd me with a reply that earned him a spoiler)

Finally, platform 9 3/4 (which JKR messed up, according to Wikipedia – I guess that means we can mess it up too). The train has been running for at least 20 years, most likely closer to 80 years. In all that time do you really believe that _nobody_ has noticed anything? How many people pass though that station each day?


	8. Enter, Hogwarts

Hi guys and gals. Sorry for the delay, but I got side-tracked reading a couple of Star Wars fanfics and it has taken me a while to get back into the Harry Potter mind-set. FYI, if you want a good laugh, check out story number 3777991 on this site (it's the first part of many from the same author).

The diversion was kind of good though, as I now have a number of new plot ideas and twists that I can weave into this story. I never realised that (in canon) Obi-Wan Kenobi was held as a POW and tortured for a number of months during the clone wars. Now... who can I torture in this story? ::author walks away cackling madly::

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Enter, Hogwarts**

_Ah, a new school. Try as you might, you can never quite anticipate what will happen when you first step into a new school. Hopes and dreams will distort your ideas, while past experience and fear will dampen your expectations. But, even amongst all the chaos, one thing is certain: no matter how bad it turns out, there is always something worthy of being remembered._

_The trick is to find what it is._

~oOo~

Nothing happened for a moment, but Harry could have sworn that he could still feel Hagrid's knocks reverberating though the ground. He couldn't help but grin at the thought of what would have happened if it had been Hagrid that had knocked upon the Dursley's door that fateful Wednesday, instead of Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. Harry quietly chucked to himself; the door never would have stood a chance.

Eventually, the massive doors opened to frame a tall woman in bright emerald-green robes; Professor McGonagall.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid stated, sounding oddly formal compared to how he had been talking earlier.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she replied in a somewhat distracted voice. She was busily scanning the mass of children in front of her. Harry didn't know what she was looking for but as soon as her gaze had passed by him, her stern face softened slightly.

"Follow me, please," she instructed, and without another word she turned and made her way deeper into the castle.

Like most of the new students around him, Harry couldn't help but feel awed by the castle interior. Looking around at the massive hallways and impressive masonry, it made him feel like he had just stepped into a story about knights, quests and dragons. Harry almost tripped over his own feet at that thought. They wouldn't keep dragons at a school full of children... would they?

In no time at all, they had followed Professor McGonagall into a small room. A rumbling of voices could be heard somewhere nearby, which could have only been the remainder of the students that had been on the train. McGonagall then turned to them and waited for them all to cram into the room before addressing them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. In a moment, you will be taken though these doors and into the main hall where you will be sorted into your house. During your time here, your house will be like your family. You will eat with your house, sleep in your house dormitory and attend classes with your house. For those that..."

Harry couldn't help but gulp. He didn't have any family and couldn't help but wonder if they wouldn't want him to be part of this "like your family" thing? What if he didn't know how to act? What if he wasn't good enough for them?

In all his worrying he never did get to hear the rest of McGonagall's speech; he didn't even realise that she had finished until the sound of a closing door made him jump. Glancing around at the nervous faces of the other students, he cursed himself for not paying attention. They gave the appearance that she had just said something that he should have paid attention to.

"H-how are they going t-to sort us?" asked someone from behind Harry.

"Some sort of test, I think," said a very pale, but very freckly boy nearby. "Fred said it hurts a lot; but I think he was joking."

The first boy tried to laugh, but it ended up sounding rather like a whimper. Harry couldn't blame him; how was he supposed to sit a test about magic when he had been told not to try any over the summer. He could hear Hermione whispering madly, from somewhere to his left; going over all the spells that she had learned already. He couldn't help but wonder just how she was able to know so much already. His worry was slowing beginning to turn into panic as he wondered if he was supposed to know all of that as well. It didn't turn into full-blown panic though, until _it _happened: someone screamed.

Spinning around, he soon felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared wide-eyed at a short, oddly-dressed, slightly translucent man floating above the heads of his fellow first-years.

"Oooh! Ickle, ickle, firsties!" the man... _ghost?_... cried. "What fun! What fun! What fu-"

The odd creature broke off from his obvious bout of glee to silently stare, wide-eyed, at the cluster of first-years that Harry had been pushed into the middle of.

"Peeves!" yelled a voice with a thick Scottish accent. "Leave the first-years alone!"

Looking towards the source of the voice, Harry once again vowed to _always_ use a quill in his transfiguration classes. He wasn't sure what was scarier at that moment, the sight of a ghost-like... _thing _(apparently called Peeves) or the sight of Professor McGonagall when she was angry. One thing was for sure though; if he survived this year, Uncle Vernon's anger would never have the same effect on him.

"Was only sayings hello, Professor. Honests," Peeves replied innocently with an sing-song voice.

"Well go and say _'hello'_ somewhere else. You know the rules regarding the welcoming ceremony."

"Aww, but I'll be _good_. Honests."

"_Go,_ Peeves. Or would you prefer me to fetch the Baron?"

Harry didn't know who the Baron was, but he was sure that he didn't want to meet the man, given the effect that the threat had had on Peeves. The ghost-like little man had actually managed to pale considerably, before disappearing up though the ceiling. For all the wonders of magic that he had seen when he had been taken to Diagon Alley, he was now beginning to wonder if it would have been a smarter idea to just go to Stonewall High, like his aunt and uncle had wanted.

"In case you hadn't deduced it already," the professor explained to the slightly quivering mass of students, "that was Peeves; a poltergeist. If you have any trouble with him, then just tell one of the prefects, or a professor. Now, if you would form a line and follow me."

Sill feeling rather unnerved from his encounter with his first poltergeist, Harry fell into line behind a girl with a rather squashed looking face who, oddly enough, reminded him of one of 'Aunt' Marge's dogs. The line wormed its way out of the room, around a corner, through an entrance hall and up to a set of elaborately carved doors; behind which, the noise of the student body could be heard very clearly.

The noise dropped to barely a whisper as the Professor opened the doors and lead the first-years down one of the aisles formed by a number of long tables, each of which was filled with teenagers that just sat there and stared at them. Harry struggled not to fidget under their gazes and ended up raising his eyes to try to prevent himself from glancing at them. However, doing so was probably not the wisest of ideas, as he quickly came to a halt and stared at the sight of thousands of candles floating against the night sky. Unfortunately, the person behind him was still walking forward at the time and ended up running into Harry, causing many of the students sitting around them to snicker.

"S-sorry," Harry mumbled as he hurried to catch up with the line in front of him. He could hear Hermione whisper to someone behind him. Something about reading something in a book. He didn't really pay much attention to her though, as Professor McGonagall was waving him over to join a steadily growing group formed by the rest of the first-years. It didn't take long for the remainder of them to join him.

He was wondering what they were all waiting for, when he noticed a lone stool, upon which sat a rather old looking wizard's hat. Perhaps the test was to pull a rabbit out of it? Hopefully, it wasn't though, as Harry didn't have a single clue as to how to make a rabbit appear out of thin air (no matter how much a part of him wanted to know). After a few seconds of complete silence, the hat twitched; a rip near the brim opened wide, and the hat... began to _sing_?

Harry stood there and blinked, transfixed at the sight of a singing hat. It sung about the four different houses that made up the student body, and the qualities of each one. Eventually, the hat stopped singing and bowed to each of the tables as the entire hall erupted into applause.

"A hat? All we have to do is put on a stupid hat? I'm going to _kill_ Fred," he heard the freckled boy whisper fiercely.

It was alright for him, Harry thought, at least he probably matched one of these four houses. Harry couldn't help but think of how he wasn't daring, quick-witted, cunning or unafraid. What happened, he pondered, to people who didn't match any of these qualities? Would he be told that he had to go back to Surrey; that he wasn't cut out to be a wizard?

Professor McGonagall stepped out in front of them and pulled out a scroll from one of her pockets. She glanced over them to make sure she had their attention, before speaking.

"When I call your name, your will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blond pig-tails stumbled out of the group, picked up the hat and sat down, with the hat falling further down head, to rest just past her chin. There were a few moments of pause, in which the hat twitched and murmured. Eventually, the rip on the hat opened once more.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it called out

The table to the right of the aisle which they had walked up earlier cheered and clapped as Hannah sat down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry paled when he noticed what could only be described as ghost sitting a little further down from her.

"Bones, Susan!"

~oOo~

High up in the rafters, above the enchanted sky, Hedwig sat eyeing everyone in the room. She had managed to find her way here by following the noise caused by all the fledglings and wanted to scout out any potential threats before she turned in for the night. It was a good thing too, as there was something decidedly... _off_ within this room. It was something that sent shivers down to the tips of her tail feathers, but she couldn't pinpoint it. It was so strong that it actually felt like it was everywhere at once.

Well, not everywhere, of course. She had almost fallen off her perch when she had first realised what was perched among the older magic users: an immortal one. She had long been told stories of the immortals, but she had never imagined that they actually existed. Hedwig's gaze flickered back to the immortal and wondered if it would know what it was that felt so wrong in this place. For a fleeting moment, she considered asking it; but that would mean having to actually _talk_ to it. She wasn't sure if she was brave enough for that, just yet.

She was about to turn back to the room in general, when the immortal's head moved. Great Lord of Flight! It was looking right at her. Hedwig compulsively gulped; perhaps she wouldn't have any choice about having that conversation.

~oOo~

Albus smiled as he leant back and stroked the feathers of his phoenix companion. It had been quite a surprise when Fawkes had started making a habit of attending the sorting ceremonies, back when he was still teaching. But then Fawkes was a lot older than he was; so he guessed that if he was allowed a few eccentricities, then so was the phoenix.

He had been looking forward to this year. He was finally going to get a chance to see the chosen one in action. With the Philosopher's Stone also safely locked away and everything in place, there was also a slim chance of being able to buy some more time. All he needed was for Tom to take the bait.

"Li, Su!"

Almost there, he thought as he sat up straighter.

...

"RAVENCLAW!"

...

"Longbottom, Neville"

Albus watched closely as a nervous looking boy approached to stool and put the hat on. He frowned slightly, behind his beard; the boy wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. But then again, he was a product of both Frank _and_ Alice. He wished, not for the first time, that he could have had access to the boy sooner, so he could guarantee his readiness, but that would mean having to disclose sensitive information to Augusta and he didn't wish to do that. It seemed that every person he had told, thus far, had met with a rather unpleasant end. Augusta was the only close family the boy had left.

Albus' frown deepened; this was taking too long.

He knew better than to try to influence this sorting. After a whole year of arguing with the blasted hat, he had finally come to the conclusion that he would have to have faith in the prophecy to sort the boy where he would need to be to be able to grow into what was needed.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Albus smiled broadly as he applauded. The prophecy had indeed put the boy where he needed to be. After a year or two to let the boy find his feet, he would be able to tailor some special tuition for the lad. He didn't know when Tom would regain power, but he would make sure that the boy was ready for him.

He never noticed the concerned glance that the school's resident healer sent the young boy as he rushed back to the stool to replace the hat. Neither did a certain other professor, but said professor did notice the rather unusual interest which the Headmaster had displayed in the boy whom had just been sorted.

~oOo~

Harry was getting nervous. No, strike that, Harry was beyond nervous and was now at the point of trying not to throw up. He had finally learned the name of the boy that had reminded him so much of Dudley: Draco Malfoy. The name of Slytherin House had been called out almost before the hat had even touched the boy's head.

Looking over the other people in that house, he got the feeling that that was one house he did _not_ want to be in. Many of the people certainly looked like they would be okay, and would probably just ignore him like many of the kids from his old school, but the others looked like they were auditioning for the part of the villain in the school play. No, Harry did _not_ want to be sorted into that house.

He was surprised that the Indian looking twins had been separated into different houses. He had thought that identical twins were supposed to be identical everything. Obviously he had learnt incorrectly, again.

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry gulped before stepping forward. He could hear a number of the students whispering, which didn't do a single thing to calm his nerves.

"Potter, did she say?"

"I wonder if he's related to Lily Potter?"

"I thought he died?"

"Nah, can't be."

"Potters have red hair, don't they?"

"Must be a cousin or something"

Harry tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat as he took the hat and carefully sat down on the stool (It wouldn't do to make a fool of himself by falling on the floor). Once seated, he put the hat on and it promptly fell down to rest upon his shoulders causing Harry to let out a small sigh; he really hated being small. He endured it though, like he always had, and waited for the hat to call out the name of the house he was to be sorted into.

A few moments later, he was still waiting.

"Well don't just sit there, child; put me on," called out a voice from about the level of his throat, causing Harry to let out a started eep.

The whispering immediately gained in volume, even while Harry replied in an uncertain (and rather muffled) voice. "But I already have."

"You have?" the hat twitched. "But then... why... o_h my! _Just sit right there, Young Lady."

Harry blinked to himself as a wave of laughter spread though-out the hall, and an odd trilling sound came from behind him. Not once had he been mistaken for a girl before, but here he was being called a 'Young Lady' by a hat (of all things) and he wasn't exactly sure how to respond. To make matters worse, he was suddenly getting a very tight, rather uncomfortable feeling in his chest as he felt... _something..._ crawling over his skull.

The feeling eventually began to dissipate and a voice (which surprisingly sounded like the hat) gradually began to form within his mind. ~... left... down there... no, no it was a right... another right and... aha!~

~Oh my word!~ the voice exclaimed softly. ~May I be among the first to welcome you to Hogwarts, Young La- ~

The voice was cut off as the hat upon his head twitched violently and was silent for a few seconds.

~_You're a boy!_~ the voice stated incredulously.

Harry thought that it was a rather odd manner in which to state such a painfully obvious fact. He had been a boy for as long as he could remember, and was still a boy the last time that he had checked (not that he needed to check).

By now the laughter in the hall had died down, but the odd trilling sound was still coming from behind Harry, causing the Hat to twist upon his head.

"Put a sock in it, you blasted bird! I am _not _going blind!" the Hat called out, causing gasps from students and professors alike.

~You'll have to forgive us there, Mr Potter,~ the voice hesitantly said. ~It's just that this is... well... _unexpected_. I guess I should also apologise for the appalling manners of our resident fire-turkey, as well.~

Harry frowned at that. It sounded like the voice (which he could only assume was the sorting hat) was somehow expecting someone else. And_ what on earth _was a fire-turkey?

~Oh dear, we seem to have drawn a bit more attention than we should have. It's probably best if I just get on with the sorting now. Before I make a right mess of things.~

What followed next, for Harry, were a few very confused moments of sitting there with a murmuring, magical hat perched on his head. Aside from the gender mishap, he was finding that the whole thing was rather surreal. When he awoken this morning, the last thing he would have imagined doing now was to sit down and place a talking hat upon his head. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if the hat was even alive.

~Oh, I don't know about being alive, Mr Potter, but I've got enough brains in my noggin to know what I am.~

Harry blinked again as he briefly wondered if he was talking to the hat without actually... _talking_.

~Yes, I have been known to talk to people from time to time,~ the hat chuckled in reply.

Another few moments passed, and a few more, until the whispers of the other students could be heard gaining in volume once more. Finally, the hat slumped down slightly upon Harry's shoulders.

~You're not going to make this easy for me are you?~ it asked and Harry's fears of not fitting in to any of the houses began to rise once more.

~Now, now, don't be thinking like that. Under normal circumstances, I know just were I would put you. Underneath all that uncertainty you seem to carry around, you have the potential to be a brilliant Gryffindor, you know,~ the hat stated, before letting out a slight mental sigh. ~But that is one place that I _can't_ put you at the moment.~

Gryffindor? Harry wasn't so sure about that. He wasn't brave at all. How could he be? He was scared of a number of things. Perhaps _that_ was why the hat said that it couldn't place him in Gryffindor.

~Bravery isn't so much about not being scared, Mr Potter; it's more about being able to face those fears and step beyond them,~ the hat replied as the memory of Harry's trip to the zoo unexpectedly sprung up before him. ~And _that's_ the reason why I can't put you in Gryffindor, there would be too much exposure and too many questions. What we need is to put you somewhere where...~ the voice trailed off for a moment, leaving Harry to frown in his mounting confusion over the hat's words.

~Yes, _yes_; that would work. It would take would be a little bit of effort, but you should be able to fit right in. Okay, Mr Potter, I have a house for you and... well, we'll have to talk later, I guess.~

There was a slight pause, before the hat called out once more.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Both relieved and confused, Harry removed the hat from his head and made his way to the table that was clapping and cheering for him. Having people cheer for him was a novel experience, and he found that it felt rather nice. However, he didn't fail to notice the number of students from the other houses that seemed to be finding amusement in his sorting.

~oOo~

Harry's placement into Hufflepuff had generated a number of differing reactions from the Hogwarts staff.

Minerva was shocked, to say the least. She had been certain that the boy had been a shoe-in for Gryffindor. She snuck a look at her friend and scowled slightly. Poppy would never let her live this one down.

Albus was silent as he slowly clapped, his mind racing about what had just happened. The hat seemed to have reacted as though it couldn't read the Potter boy. More intriguing was that the hat had openly insulted Fawkes in front of the entire population of the school and yet the phoenix had sat there and... well it sounded like he had _laughed_.

He knew, from the portraits in his office, that the hat and the phoenix had an unusual friendship that had built up over the years. But still, it was an incredibly odd time for the two to joke around. This required more thought, he concluded.

Severus Snape had been watching the sorting with his usual indifference. More than three quarters of the student population were either idiots or rascals that didn't deserve to be graced with his time, and he would much rather be eating his dinner than listen to an old relic call out random names.

The Potter boy had taken his interest though (as loathe he was to admit it). Curiously enough, the brat had looked every bit like a young James Potter strutting down that isle. He even had the nerve to stop and admire the scenery, the arrogant whelp. It was then, though, that he had noticed the brat's eyes. He would recognise those eyes anywhere; they were Lily's eyes. He wasn't sure how it was possible, as he had been certain that the child had died.

Either way, his sorting had turned into a complete farce. How he had gotten the hat to play along with his little prank, he didn't know. But he did know one thing: Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, James Potter's son would get no mercy from him.

~oOo~

Harry sat down at the Hufflepuff table with a flop, next to a brown-haired boy named... Ed... Earl... Er.. well, something beginning with 'E'.

"Ernie McMillan," the boy said as he offered Harry his hand.

"Harry Potter," he replied as the two boys shook hands.

"I must say, you caused quite a stir up there."

"I did?" Harry asked, as he tried not to squirm.

"I've never heard of the hat acting like that during a sorting," commented an older girl a couple of places down. "And to insult the headmaster's phoenix and get away with it? That... well that's just not done."

"Phoenix?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, phoenix."

Harry turned to where the girl was pointing and (next to what had to be the oldest man on the planet) was the most beautiful bird Harry that had ever seen. Part of him felt a rather guilty about forcing Hedwig down a peg or two on the appearance scale, but he was sure she would understand... well, he hoped she would understand.

The bird in question turned to face him, as though sensing his gaze. The phoenix cocked its head before nodding once and rising into the air only to disappear in a burst of flame. Startled, Harry blinked a few times before turning back to the older girl.

"I take it that that's why he called it a fire-turkey?" he asked as he pointed over his shoulder.

The girl, who had been taking a sip of water at the time, promptly sprayed said drink all over the boy sitting opposite her before breaking into a coughing fit.

"Fire-turkey?" she spluttered between coughs.

"Well, that's what the hat called it."

In what felt like no time at all (now that he had actually been sorted), the sorting ceremony was finally over, with the last first-year being sorted into Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and quickly removed the stool and hat from the hall.

Harry had to guess that being a hat meant that he probably wasn't as hungry as he was himself. Glancing at his plate, he couldn't help but wonder when dinner was. He glanced at his watch, only to find that it had stopped working. Frowning he tapped it a couple of times, but still it sat there doing nothing.

"Didn't any one tell you?" asked the older girl with a concerned look. "Electrical things won't work here; because of all the magic. I'm afraid your watch is going to be pretty much useless until the end of the year."

Well that was just great, Harry groused to himself. He had been quite pleased with being able to rescue it, and now he wouldn't be able to use thing. He idly noticed Justin also giving his watch an experimental tap and felt better that at least he wasn't the only one who hadn't known that little piece of information.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!"

Harry turned to see that the old man, whom was obviously the headmaster, had risen from his seat. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he saw that the man had a beard that was long enough to be tucked into his belt.

"Before we begin out banquet," the old man continued. "I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

The old man sat back down and Harry tried desperately to work out what he had said. He sincerely hoped that he wouldn't have to learn another language just to be able to learn things here. Turning back to ask one of the others what he had meant, he was startled to see that the table, which had previously only held of goblets and water jugs, was now absolutely covered in food.

"Wha?" was about the most intelligible thing he could come up with.

"Come on dig in, before it's all gone," came a call from down the table.

"Yeah, like that would ever be possible," someone replied with a chuckle.

Harry saw Justin tentatively poking a roasted potato with a fork. Obviously satisfied with the result, Justin began loading up his plate. Harry shrugged and poured himself some orange juice. He hadn't had much to drink all day and the sweets on the train had made him thirsty. However, taking a sip made him immediately regret his decision and he quickly spat the liquid back into his goblet.

"Ugh! What happened to the orange juice?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Orange juice?" Asked the girl opposite him. Hannah if he remembered correctly. "Why would anyone want to juice an orange?"

Harry blinked.

"This isn't orange juice?" he asked looking closer at the orange liquid. It _looked_ like orange juice.

"No, silly! It's _pumpkin_ juice," Hannah giggled.

_Pumpkin _juice? Harry screwed his face up and pushed the goblet away from him. "I think I'll stick to water for now," he said as he reached for a clean goblet and the water jug.

"Suit yourself. Personally, I prefer the juice," she commented.

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. People actually _enjoyed_ drinking that stuff?

Thankfully, Harry found the food actually tasted like what it appeared to be, unlike the drink. The potatoes tasted like potatoes and the beef tasted like beef. All in all, he found that the food was actually very good. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of Dudley suffering though Aunt Petunia's mediocre cooking while Harry, the usual cook, was here at Hogwarts enjoying a well cooked meal and listening to all the chatter going on around him. He had found it surprisingly enjoyable to be included in a few odd conversations, but for now he was content in just sitting there basking in the friendly atmosphere the Hufflepuffs seemed to be projecting.

In what felt like no time at all, the tables had cleared themselves by simply vanishing their contents, much to Harry's awe. He would love to be able to clear the table like that at the Dursley's.

Once everyone had quietened down, the Headmaster began speaking once more. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact either their Madam Hooch, their Head of House or their appropriate team captain.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Much whispering followed this last announcement and Harry gazed around the hall, seeing many confused faces. He himself was wondering what what so dangerous about this hall. Surely there couldn't be anything dangerous in a school could there? He couldn't help but ponder this as vague images of dragons, snakes and giants danced past his imagination. He eventually concluded that perhaps it would be a good idea to stay away from the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side... wherever that was, exactly. A shiver went down his spine as he thought about what could happen if he got lost and ended up there by accident.

"And now before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

Dumbledore flicked his wand and words sprung up above him. At the same time, Harry couldn't help but notice that a number of the professors cringed rather violently. A really short professor had even covered his ears with his hands and mumbled something before relaxing. Another professor, this one wearing nothing but black, waved his wand in a peculiar pattern at the table in front of him. What was the big deal about singing a song?

Harry didn't have to ponder that question for long, as a cacophony of noise soon pounded against his ears. He found that he wasn't the only one wincing at the sound, and it was all he could do to not clap his hands over his ears as hundreds of voices started singing in horribly conflicting tunes. Just when he thought that he wouldn't be able to take much more, the voices died down, until finally there was silence.

After being dismissed from the hall, Harry found himself amongst a group of other first-year students, being led out of the hall. The trek to the Hufflepuff dormitories was a quiet one for the first-years. It was not that they were introspective or shy at the moment, it was more for the reason that they were being led down so many stair cases, portrait-filled corridors and through an innumerable amount of turns, that most were rather concerned about finding their way back out again.

"And here we are," said the older girl that Harry had talked to at dinner. "This is the entrance to our common room and dormitories."

Harry looked around him to see that they had ended up in a long corridor lined with tapestries. What he could not see however was a door.

"You need to remember that only we Hufflepuffs are supposed to know where this is," said the male prefect with them, "so don't go spreading the location around. If someone from another house does happen to make their way down here, then be sure not to open the door while they're here."

"Uh, what door?" asked Ernie as he scanned the hallway with the other first-years.

"I think a better question would be: where are we?" added Susan who, by this stage, was looking thoroughly lost.

"Well done, Patrick," the older girl commented as she sighed. "You may remember that _this_ was why we were given a map in our first year?"

"I told you before, Sammie; we have enough trouble with those twins as it is. The last thing we need is them getting a hold of a map."

The older girl, whom Harry now realised was called Sammie (which he thought was a rather odd name for a girl), stood there with her arms crossed and glared at her fellow prefect. It wasn't long before all the first-years had joined Harry in watching the older students, wondering when they would be shown where the door was, or even better, how to escape the maze of corridors that they had passed through. Eventually, Sammie gracefully raised one of her eye-brows (oddly enough, reminding Harry of Professor McGonagall) and Patrick finally backed down.

"Okay, fine," he grumbled, "I'll have the maps ready for them at breakfast."

Sammie turned to the gathered first-years and smiled at them. "Right, now that that's settled let's get you inside. If you take a look at this tapestry, you should see a badger running around in it somewhere..." she broke off while she examined the tapestry.

Harry found the badger rather quickly, but wasn't sure if he was supposed to call it out or not. He was rather conscious of the fact that he had already caused a bit of a stir this evening, and was not looking forward to causing another one.

"Aha; there your are!" Sammie cried when she spotted it. "Now this little guy is called Max, short for Maximilian. All you have to do is to give Max the password and he'll open the door for you, like this: _Goldfish_"

"_Goldfish?_" asked a blond-haired boy that Harry couldn't remember the name of. He did have very snobbish tone about him that made Harry feel a bit uncomfortable about asking him.

"Yes, well, I have to admit it isn't exactly the type of password that I would choose. But then I don't get to choose them. Now why don't we get you all inside."

"But where's the door?" asked the same boy.

"Behind you."

Harry turned with the others to find that one of the tapestries had rolled itself up to reveal a doorway. Harry glanced at the badger (which was now watching the group), then looked back to the doorway. Try as he might, he just couldn't work out why the badger was on one wall, yet the doorway was the other. Shaking his head at the strangeness of it all, he followed the others though the doorway into a large room that was filled with many comfortable looking seats, couches and work tables. A number of pot plants were dotted the rather yellow-looking room and there appeared to be a group of older students waiting for them.

"They're all yours, Joanne," yelled Sammie from behind them as she took a seat in the background.

An even older girl turned towards Sammie, then stood up and walked over to the group of first-years, carrying a bowl with her.

"Hi there guys and girls, I'm Joanne, as you've probably worked out already. I'm one of the seventh-year prefects this year for Hufflepuff, and it's my duty to get you paired of.

"Now, as you should know, Hufflepuff is a house known for loyalty and friendliness. As such, we have a tradition here to always make sure that our youngest students are looked after. Each of our first and second years has someone assigned to them that they can call on to help out if they get stuck with their work, can't find where some place is, or just need someone to talk to. A mentor, of sorts.

"In here," she added as she held up the bowl, "is a list of all the names of those students that are in third or fourth year that haven't already been paired up with anyone yet. And yes, that does mean that when you get to your third year, you will be likely paired up with a new student, to help them as these guys behind me are going to be helping you."

Harry felt his stomach tighten again. He couldn't help but wonder if his luck would land him with someone who was a lot like Dudley. The older students hovering in the background looked friendly, but then so could some of Dudley's friends... just before they ended up putting a fist in your gut.

"Okay. I want you guys to form a line; any order will do, it makes no difference; then come up here and pull a name out of the bowl. Call out the name, and that person will come and introduce themselves. They'll let you know what to do from there."

After a brief moment of chaos (where the group of first-years did their best to arrange themselves into something that resembled a line), one by one, they pulled a name from the bowl and read it out. As soon as they did, one of the older students would come up and introduce themselves before leading them away and allowing the next person to come up to the bowl.

Harry, who was used to being picked last for things at school, had automatically dropped to the back of the group. By the time he had his turn at the bowl, he had noticed that many of his fellow first-years had already left the common room, the boys heading in one direction and the girls in another. Taking what he hoped was a calming breath, he stepped up and raised his hand to place it in the the bowl.

He fished around for a second or two, until he had separated out a piece of thick paper (no... _parchment_,he corrected himself) so that he could grab it. Pulling it out, he unfolded it and frowned. The name had been been scribbled out. At a loss as to what he should do he glanced up at Joanne. He was about to ask whether he should pull another one out when she glanced at the parchment and rolled her eyes.

"Nymphadora," she called.

"Oy. How many times to I have to tell you not to call me that!"

"Whatever," Joanne sighed. "Just get over here, your name's been pulled."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Obviously something had happened between these two in the past, but he didn't know what. He was even more confused when a red-haired girl whom had sounded so angry just a moment ago, bounded over to them, threw a nasty look at Joanne, then turned at Harry and thrust her hand in his face.

"Hi, I'm Tonks, you can call me Tonks and if you remember that I'm called Tonks then we'll get along fine. Call me that other name and I'll curse you into oblivion," she said with a bright smile.

Harry could feel his eyes widen slightly as he took a step back. She had said all that with a bright smile, but many years around Dudley meant that he knew a threat when he heard one. He was rather surprised, however, to see Joanne clip the younger girl on the back of her head.

"Be nice! You're scaring the firstie."

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm cursed with that word rather than a proper name!"

Joanne rolled her eyes again before waving her finger in front of the red-head's nose.

"Be nice!" she enunciated slowly, before shaking her head and walking away.

Harry stood there, staring warily at the girl that had just threatened him. Eventually, the girl noticed his posture and her shoulders dropped a bit.

"Oh, don't go like that on me. I just don't like the name, okay?"

Still, Harry didn't move.

"Okay, let's start again," she said as she held out her hand, "Hi, I'm Tonks. I'm a third-year and I'm going to play the part of your mentor for the next two years. I do have another name that I don't let people use, because it's a horrible, horrible name. It's a name that should never be given to anyone and if you remember that it's a horrible name then we'll get along swimmingly."

Harry tentatively reached out to take the girl's hand.

"H-Harry," he stammered.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" she said with a grin.

"I guess not," Harry replied slowly. This girl was... confusing.

Tonks regarded him curiously for a moment and tilted her head to one side.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"I don't think so," he said. Harry was sure he would remember some one like her.

"Hmm, what's your family name?"

"Potter."

Harry watched as she pursed her lips for a few seconds, as though trying to remember something, before her eyes bulged comically. He felt like laughing at the sight of the goldfish impersonation she started doing, but felt that laughing at this girl probably wouldn't be the best thing to do. Finally she gulped and replied with a rather nervous expression on her face.

"Right," she said. "Well... um... breakfast starts at seven, so I guess... I guess I'll meet you here around then and... and then take you up to breakfast... Oh right! Heh-heh, yeah, um, your dorm room... it's through that door, just uh... just look for the one that says first-years."

Harry couldn't help feel like his hopes were falling to his feet. This girl was acting as though she knew him, but not in the way that Hermione and a few others had. No, Tonks was acting in much the same way as kids at his old school would, when he introduced himself. It was the same mixture of nerves and anxiety that they got when they realised that they were going to be beaten up by Dudley, just for talking to him.

Harry's shoulders slumped; his reputation had followed him to Hogwarts. Before he could say anything, Tonks spun around and stumbled a few steps before rapidly retreating towards where Harry assumed the girl's dorms were.

Harry, feeling rather dejected, turned to the boys dorms to go and find his room. He eventually found both it and a bed that had his new trunk sitting at its foot. Changing quickly into some pyjamas, he climbed into bed and closed the curtains that hung around it, doing his best to ignore the curious looks he received from some of the other boys in the room.

~oOo~

Tonks tugged at fistfuls of her hair as she paced around her dorm room, oblivious to the concerned looks she was getting from her dorm-mates. She had been picked to mentor the one person who had the potential to ruin her time here at Hogwarts. Why, oh why, did Harry _Potter_ have to pull out her name? This was not good, not good; no, definitely _not good_.

She desperately needed to solve this; but how? With a flash of inspiration, she spun around made for the exit. Perhaps Professor Sprout could fix this.

* * *

**AN:** So, nobody managed to guess what the hat was going to say. I'm not sure if that is a sign that people don't care, or that my idea was just highly... strange.

Any-who, Harry is now a Hufflepuff so I expect to hear a number of groans about a Harry turning all mary-sue. I'll try to disappoint those groaners now by pointing out that the sorting hat said that Harry is actually better suited for Gryffindor, not Hufflepuff.

By the way, the mentor thing was an idea I picked up from a story called 'Welcome to the World' (by Kyuubi08, adopted by Shimo Ino). I also took advantage of this to de-age Tonks by a few years as I have need for her to be closer to Harry's age (I can neither confirm nor deny if this is to do with possible ships. I have already said that I won't give away the plot).


	9. Impressions

**Chapter 8 – Impressions**

_We are told, from a young age, that first impressions can last a life-time. Whilst not many children are willing to see the wisdom in that lesson, it still remains true, nonetheless._

_Many a time, such wisdom can work to our advantage in allowing for us to make others build a positive mental image of ourselves. There are times, however, where it can be like a curse; all it takes is one little mistake, and the impressions that others hold about us can be become seriously tarnished._

_Like all tarnished items, this bad impression can be removed with a bit of polishing. This isn't always an easy task, and it will often take a significant effort to remove the tarnish and show what truly hides beneath. There is also a risk involved; polishing too hard, or doing so incorrectly can irreparably damage what was hiding underneath._

~oOo~

Harry awoke the following morning before any of the other boys in his dormitory; years of being made to rise early had been engrained into his subconscious. Unsure of what the time was, but suspecting that it would be nearly time for breakfast, he decided that it was probably be a good idea to get ready for the new day. He then remembered the events of the previous evening and a part of him couldn't help but want to throw the bed covers over his head and go back to sleep; he chose not to, though.

Moving quietly so that he wouldn't awaken anyone, he got out of bed and padded his way over to his trunk, intending to pull out one of his new uniforms. When he opened his trunk though, he gasped is surprise. His uniforms were gone.

Hoping that they hadn't been taken by a bully, he quickly scanned the immediate area on the off chance that he had accidentally pulled them out last night when he was retrieving his pyjamas. In doing so, he got his first good look at the room which he was in. There were five curtained, four-poster beds in the room, each with a small bed-side table and what looked to be a small wardrobe.

Harry jumped up from the floor and moved to the wardrobe that was closest to his bed. Opening it up, he breathed a sigh of relief; his uniforms were all there, hanging from coat hangers. It was odd though, as he couldn't remember putting them there last night and he doubted that anyone else would have put them there for him.

Taking a closer look, he also realised that they now looked different. He was certain that they were his (as they still had the name tags upon which he had written his name), but they were no longer plain black. His ties and scarfs were now striped with the same shade of dark yellow as the curtains around his bed, same too with the lining of his cloaks. Also, there was now a crest that had been sewn upon both his cloaks and his jumpers; one which bore a badger and the word 'Hufflepuff'.

Curious as to the finer details of the crest, he postponed his trip to the shower in favour of examining one of of them in the early morning light. Moving over to the window, Harry paused and blinked. He had never noticed a window there last night. Then again, he thought chidingly, he hadn't noticed a lot of things about the dormitory last night. Even so, Harry had been positive that they had been taken underground on their way here the previous night, so how could there be a window?

Placing the robe that he held upon his bed, he moved to the window to see if he could work out where in the castle they were. Looking outside, he was surprised to realise that his dormitory was actually built directly into the cliff that the castle sat upon. Even though he couldn't look up to see how far below the castle they were (because there was far too much rock in the way), he did have a nice view of the loch, which was shimmering in the early morning sunlight.

The sound of one of his dorm-mates letting out a rather pig-like snore roused him from staring at the highland scenery and reminded him that he still had to get ready for his new day. It was going to be his first day as a wizard, and not even the reaction of that third-year girl the previous night was going to stop him from doing his best to fit in.

Retrieving his toiletries from his trunk and grabbing one of his new uniforms, he made his way to the door only to come to a halt as a thought suddenly crossed his mind: where was the bathroom?

~oOo~

Tonks hadn't slept too well last night. In her agitation, she had even managed to startle the poor house-elf that had popped in to do the cleaning. It was understandable then why one could now find her cursing under her breath as she hopped around on one foot in the girls bathroom, after stubbing her toe on edge of the doorway. After mentally cursing whomever it was that had decided to make the doorway too narrow, she eventually recovered the belongings which she had dropped and hobbled her way back to her room so that she could finish getting ready for the new day. She was definitely not looking forward to today.

It had all started the previous night, when her name had been pulled out of that bowl by the one person that she wished hadn't done so. Then, after managing to track down Professor Sprout, she had promptly lost ten house points for being out of the dormitories after curfew and had failed to garner any assistance at all. In fact, she had been given what amounted to an ultimatum: that she had to talk to Harry before classes this morning and _"tell him what he has the right to know"_ and that _"it was time for her to start trusting her fellow Hufflepuffs"_ before Professor Sprout chose to act on it herself. Dammit, didn't the professor realise what this could do to her?

With a frustrated huff, she finished tying her shoelaces and (while ignoring the curious looks from her friends), grabbed the books that she needed to return and made her way out to the common room to have a talk that she didn't want to have.

She easily found Harry standing off to the side, waving his hand over one of the potted snapdragon bushes and watching as the flowers tried to nip at his fingertips. Approaching him, she cleared her throat to catch his attention.

"So, are you ready for breakfast?" she asked.

~oOo~

Harry reluctantly turned towards the familiar voice only to frown slightly in confusion. He could have sworn that he had heard the voice of the red-haired girl from last night; the one that had all but run away upon learning his name. Instead he saw someone that he had never seen before.

"Sorry, but were you talking to me?" he enquired.

Tonks was a bit hesitant to respond, but eventually did. "Yeah, I asked if you were ready to be taken up to breakfast."

The hesitance in her voice was enough for Harry to realise what was going on. He guessed that it was to be expected, after all if he still couldn't remember everybody that was a first-year Hufflepuff, then how was she supposed to be able to.

"Sorry, I think you have me confused with one of the other first-years." he stated.

"Ah, no," she said slowly, as she looked at him oddly. "You pulled my name out of the bowl last night."

Harry frowned for a moment. "No, I pulled out the name of a girl called Ny- um, called Tonks. She's a third year, one with long red hair, and well..." Harry trailed off in his description as he indicated the girl's shoulder-length, curly brown hair.

Tonks gave a startled blink, before grabbing a fistful of her hair and bringing it before her eyes. Once she saw that she did in fact have her natural, slightly curly, brown hair and not the flowing red that she had been favouring lately, she surprised Harry by scowling deeply, and letting a frustrated growl sound in the back of her throat. She thought that she had finally got that under control.

As her hair began changing back to what it looked like the previous night, Harry couldn't help but stare, wide-eyed. "Huh... but... how... what?" he eventually stammered.

What? Tonks thought, sardonically. "It's annoying, that's what," she grumbled, before registering Harry's shock. "Oh! Um, yeah, well that's... well, it's just a little something I can do."

Harry still staring in shock at her hair caused her to let out a weary sigh. It seemed like every week she had to explain about her abilities to some new person. "Come on, I'll explain it on the way. At least it'll explain a detour that I have to make."

Surprisingly enough, the detour which Tonks had to make was to the Hospital Wing. On their way there, Tonks explained about her being something called a metamorphmagus, and as such she had the ability to change her appearance at will (or at least she would have, once she finally learned how to control it properly). And that was where the hospital wing came in.

As Harry soon learned, metamorphmagi were extremely rare. To the best of Tonks' knowledge, the last known metamorphmagus had died nearly four hundred years ago, and as such there wasn't anybody who could teach her how to use her talent. The closest thing to a suitable teacher was Madam Pomfrey, who (for the past three years) had been teaching her about how the human body worked. Between the two of them, they had also been working out just what it was that Tonks needed to do, in order to change the various parts of her body.

The detour this morning was so that Tonks could return some books that she had borrowed for the summer.

From there, they headed towards the Great Hall (which Tonks had told him was where their meals were eaten) and Harry had noticed that she seemed to be getting increasingly restless. He couldn't help but remember his thoughts from last night and he had the impression that something was going to happen shortly. The only real question being whether that something was going to be healthy for Harry. In the end, he couldn't have been more surprised about what that something was, even if he had tried.

~oOo~

Tonks had been taking a roundabout route down to the Great Hall, trying to build up her nerve for the one conversation that she wanted to avoid. As soon as she began to hear the noise of breakfast up ahead, she realised that it had to be now or never. Steeling her resolve, she grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him into the nearest empty room before closing and locking the door. Turning to face the young boy, she couldn't help but notice his suddenly wary posture, a fact that didn't help her one bit.

"Listen, Harry, I... that is Professor Sprout... well, I guess my..." Tonks grimaced as her shoulders slumped. "Why does this have to be hard?" she whined. "Look, Harry, we need to talk. _I_ need to talk. Apparently I _have_ to talk. If I don't talk..." she trailed off as a frustrated sigh escaped her.

"And, I'm not making any sense," she mumbled as she rubbed her fingers over her eyes.

Harry's wariness had quickly been replaced with confusion, which seemed to help her a bit as she took a breath and tried again.

"Look, about last night," she began. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted that way, it was... it was stupid, but the others... they don't know and they can't know because if they do, then... then..." another frustrated sound escaped her. Why couldn't this be easy? She practically screamed to herself within her mind.

While Tonks was trying to find the best way to put into words what the issue was between them, Harry had been trying to make sense of what little Tonks had already said. Her words, coupled with her actions the previous night, led him to the one conclusion that it nearly always boiled down to: he wasn't wanted.

"You don't want to be my mentor," he said.

"No, I... _What?_ No, uh I mean yes. No. Oh, I don't know. Look, Harry, it's... _messy_, okay? There's a, um, a _history_ between our families that I've been told I have to tell you about. It's... it's about _that_ night, the night when your mum defeated You-Know-Who."

Seeing the boy's mounting confusion, her stomach dropped slightly. "You _do_ know what happened that night. Don't you?" she cautiously asked.

Although Harry wasn't sure what it was about that night was was 'messy', he still nodded. "Yeah, that was the night that my parents died. Professor McGonagall said that that really bad wizard, the one that they were hiding from, found them but my Mum somehow stopped him."

"There more, Harry, a lot more," Tonks replied sullenly, as she dropped herself into the nearest seat, ran her hands over her face and groaned to herself. "Look, my mum's family is, well it's _full_ of dark witches and wizards who sided with You-Know-Who. It's one of the reasons why she broke it off with them; she just didn't want to get tangled up in that. Of course, it helped that she got kicked out after getting engaged to Dad, but that's another story altogether.

"Anyway, other than Mum, there was another person that broke it off with that family, my mum's cousin, Sirius Black."

Harry's eyes lit up as he sat down opposite Tonks and an eager expression on his face. "Sirius Black, my mum wrote that he was one of my dad's friends. You're related to him? Do you know him very well?"

Tonks cringed at Harry's eagerness. It was obvious to her that Harry didn't know much, and she hated to have to be the one to have to break this particular piece of news to him.

"Well, Harry... he's in prison," she said slowly as she watched the boy blink in surprise. "When your parents went into hiding, they hid using some really, _really_ advanced magic that made it so that only _one_ person could ever be able to tell people where they were hiding. That one person was the person who told You-Know-Who where they were hiding. That person... they... it was Sirius Black, Harry; he... he set your parents up to die."

Harry sat there for a moment in stunned shock as Tonks' words bounced around within his mind. Gradually the shock turned into confusion.

"But... but my mum said that he was my dad's _friend_, his _best _friend."

"I know, Harry," Tonks said softly. She couldn't help but feel like an absolute cad at having been the one to tell him this. "Everybody thought the same thing, but in the end he turned out to be just another follower of You-Know-Who instead. He even murdered another of his so called friends as well, a man named Peter Pettigrew. That was how they caught him. He was eventually jailed for being both a murderer and a spy. And that's why I reacted the way I did last night."

Harry sat there silently, looking at her in confusion still. Grateful that he hadn't reacted poorly yet, Tonks continued her explanation.

"After Sirius had been found to be a spy, the MLE (which are essentially the magical bobbies) started to poke around Mum's family tree." Tonks let out a sardonic chuckle before elaborating. "They discovered that I have a psychopathic serial killer for an aunt (and another one for an uncle), two cousins on my mother's side who were death eaters, a great-aunt and two great-uncles who were closely tied to You-Know-Who, and another aunt whom willingly married a Death Eater; said Death Eater was also slippery enough to get his charges dropped. Needless to say, when they found out all of _that_, then they also tried to go after Mum. Thanks to Sirius, not even being one of your mum's friends could spare her from that.

"She was eventually driven from her job, she was arrested (twice), she had her inheritance confiscated, her name was plastered all over the news (in a bad way). Generally, her life was turned into a living hell. If it hadn't been for Dad, who had been studying to become a muggle solicitor at the time, then they would have likely found some way to send her to prison as well, even though she didn't do anything."

She let out a brighter chuckle this time. "Important lesson, Harry: _never_ try to win an argument with my father, he's likely to turn your argument upside-down and inside-out in no time."

She paused for a moment as she reminisced about one of her early childhood attempts to mimic this ability of her fathers. She never did manage to convince him that he needed to get her a pet unicorn, not that she would ask for one now (she was far too old for that). Blinking away fond memories, she continued her morose tale.

"Well, needless to say that Mum ended up being almost driven out of the magical world because of what her cousin had done, and she ended up losing most of her friends in the process. She can't even open up a new Gringotts vault under her name any more; which, if you know anything about goblins, is saying a hell of a lot.

"You need to realise, though, that as bad as it was for Mum, the way things operate with the older families is that what happened to Mum also affects me and my dad. Dad has always wanted to try and bring the two worlds back together again, but now he can't; and I already have the Ministry for Magic watching my every move, because of what I am. It's why I've made sure that not many people here at school know of my connection to what happened to your parents. Well, my closest friends know, of course, but most of them are muggle-born or half-blood anyway. Though, if the general student body found out..."

Tonks trailed off as she fixed Harry with an expression of seriousness. "Harry, you need to realise that your mother is a modern day hero to most of the students here, and is loved by a lot of people out there in the magical world. If my familial connection to Sirius Black came to light, then it could destroy what chances I have of getting a decent education here. I mean, just imagine what it would be like for one of Adolph Hitler's distant relatives to try and live a peaceful live if they still carried the family name 'Hitler'.

"It's why I freaked out last night, when I realised who you were. I panicked because I thought that you would tell everyone." Tonks' face grew concerned. "You won't tell them, will you?"

Harry sat there silently, mulling over what had been said. Even with all the possibilities of finally being able to fit in with people who were like him, he was beginning to wonder if it was any different from the life he had left behind in Little Whinging. There, he would often be blamed for something that Dudley had done, even though he sometimes did deserve it. It seemed though, to Harry at least, that Tonks was in a similar situation; trying to escape the actions of a relative she would rather not have. Knowing this caused him to look at her actions of the previous night in a whole new light.

"Harry?" Tonks' worried voice broke him from his thoughts and he realised that she was still waiting for his answer.

"No," he eventually said quietly with a slight shake of his head. "No, I won't tell them. I know what it's like to have relatives that you would rather not have."

Tonks breathed a sigh of relief. She could tell from the tone of his voice that he was being sincere. She blinked, though, when his next words reached her ears.

"You still don't want to be my mentor, though, don't you."

It wasn't said as a question, it was stated as fact; and it surprised Tonks that her initial reaction was actually to deny it.

"It's okay, I'm used to it."

"No, Harry. I think that maybe... Well we obviously didn't start of off on the right foot, but... _Hey._ What do you mean _'you're used to it'_?" she asked as her eyes narrowed.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. What could he say? "I'm the only person I know of here that comes from Little Whinging. People there don't like anything that isn't like everything else."

Tonks pulled back a bit in surprise, while she tried to imagine what that could be like. "Damn, that must of sucked. Personally, I can't stand it when everyone tries to be the same."

Putting that aside for now, she sat up straighter, with new resolve. "Okay then, I'll make you a deal: remember not to call me by that curse-word, and I'll agree be your mentor for the next two years. That way we can both be as abnormal as we want, without any hassle. What do you say?"

Tonks put her hand out towards Harry causing him to blink in surprise. She actually _wanted_ to be his mentor, and she didn't mind if he turned out to be abnormal?

With a pleasant feeling fluttering about within him, he reached out his hand and they shook on it. It was only a moment later when he concluded that the pleasant feeling had meant that this had been the right choice to make. It was a thought that finally brought a smile to his face for the morning.

As Tonks unlocked the door to allow them to leave, a question that had been niggling at Harry since they had entered was finally able to find voice.

"Tonks? What sort of room is this?" he asked as he indicated the room they were leaving. At first glance, one would suspect it was a classroom. But, with only a handful of tables and chairs, it didn't seem to be a suitable for any size of class that Harry was used to.

"Oh, it's just a practice room. You'll find them all over the castle."

"A practice room?" he enquired as he closed the door behind him. "What do you practice in them?"

"Well, that depends on how old you are, I guess," Tonks chuckled without thinking.

"He's a bit young for you, don't you think," a new voice cut in.

Spinning around, Tonks found her face to face with Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson; two Gryffindors from her year. Not friends of hers as such, but then again, not enemies either. Before she could ask what they were talking about, they just smirked at her in amusement and walked right past them. Following their progress in confusion brought her eyes back around to see Harry looking at her with equal confusion. It was at that moment that her brain caught up on what it was that she had said, causing her breath to catch. Oh crap, she thought. No matter how much she had explained to Harry already, she was definitely _not_ going to explain _that _to him.

Mentally casting about for a suitable explanation, she blurted out the first thing that popped into her head. "Magic!" she almost yelled. "You practice magic in them, because... because you don't want to have everyone practising in the common room, and you aren't allowed to practice in the corridors."

"But why does that depend on how old you are?" he asked as she started hearing him towards breakfast.

"Well... as you get older... you learn different things... so it all depends on how old you as to what magic you practice," she finished brightly.

"Oh," Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

~oOo~

They continued on their way towards to the great hall again, this time with Tonks giving a quick explanation on what to expect in his classes. He had even learned that the potions professor had the same name as his mother's friend. When he raised the question of whether they were the same person, Tonks had immediately replied that it was impossible, and that he would learn why as soon as he met the man.

With the continual small talk, Harry was in decidedly better spirits when they reached the Great Hall and were greeted by the sounds of hundreds of teenagers enjoying their first Hogwarts breakfast of the year. Tonks left him with the rest of the first years, before going to join her friends further down the table.

"Hey Harry," Justin greeted him. "Where did you run off to this morning?"

"Tonks, ah, took me to the hospital wing this morning," Harry mumbled, remembering his promise not to tell everyone what he had learned.

"Oh, are you feeling okay?"

Harry turned to the welsh girl that had just spoken. He remembered meeting her last night, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what her name was. His confusion was obviously noticeable though.

"Oh, sorry, Megan Jones," she said as she held out her hand.

Harry shook her hand and replied that he was in fact feeling fine. He was saved from having to provide more details about his morning activities when a great commotion broke out. Turning towards the cause of the noise, Harry was surprised to see what had to be no less than one hundred owls swoop down into the Great Hall (from somewhere above the magical ceiling), each owl proceeded to drop letters and packages to people at the various tables. Some even staying with various students for a bit of breakfast; one of whom was very well known by Harry.

"Good morning to you too, Hedwig," he chuckled as Hedwig alighted upon his shoulder and butted her head into his.

"Oh, what a beautiful owl!" Megan exclaimed. "Is it yours, Harry?"

Harry could only grin at how Hedwig puffed herself up at Megan's comment.

"Well I wouldn't say that she's mine exactly, but she does like following me around, don't you, Hedwig," he said as he fed her a piece of bacon from the serving platter in front of him.

The rest of breakfast followed in a rather similar fashion, with many passing girls stopping to comment to Harry about Hedwig, causing Harry to wonder if he was the only person here that had ever seen a white owl before. Throughout this, the first-years ate their breakfast and waited to be given the timetables and the maps that they had been promised (although they all thought that a map back to the common room was the more important of the two). Fairly soon, the conversation turned to finding out what type of wands people had.

"Willow and unicorn hair," Hannah stated proudly as she held out her wand to show the others. "I just can't wait until they teach us how to use them. It feels like I've been waiting for ages now."

"What about you Harry?" asked Steven Cornfoot, whom had started the current topic of discussion.

Harry had been impressed with some of the fancy carvings and elaborate designs that adorned many of their wands and (when he considered how plain-looking his was) he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Said jealousy quickly fled, however, the moment he pulled out his wand and the sensation of distant music returned to him.

"Beech and veela hair," he stated as he presented his wand to the group for inspection.

Before anyone could comment though, Harry heard a gasp from behind him. Turning, he saw Professor Sprout standing there, her eyes flickering from his wand, to him and back again. Suddenly, that uneasy feeling returned to him again, Mr Ollivander hadn't seemed to like his wand at all. Was Professor Sprout going to be the same?

Not many students realised that Professor Sprout had actually picked up a thing or two about wands during all of her years working with plants. She had heard of various theories around why different wands tended to respond well with certain types of people. The most fanciful one that she had heard was the rumour that veela-core wands would only work for those that carried veela blood. Remembering about all of the older girls that she had noticed pausing to talk to the first-years this morning, she couldn't help but be concerned that that particular rumour may have had a ring of truth to it.

Noticing that many of her first-years were staring at her, she mentally shook herself just as one of the first-years asked the older students sitting next to them what a veela was, causing a sixth-year boy to choke on his toast.

"You timetables, dears, and a little something extra," she said as she dished out the timetables and instructions on how to find the corridor that held their dormitories.

Once done, she cast another look at the young raven-haired boy in front of her, who was watching her cautiously with those bright green eyes of his. Suddenly, she felt that maintaining social decorum within the Hufflepuff dormitories was going to get very difficult for the next seven years. In all of her growing concern, she forgot to even check if Nymphadora had talked to the Potter child yet.

~oOo~

Over the next few days, Harry found himself awed by many of his classes.

His first class had been Charms, which was taught by the smallest old person that Harry had ever seen. The Professor had even taken to using a stack of old books as a make-shift stage just so that they could see him. It was this stack which the professor had nearly fallen off when he looked towards Harry after Harry had responded to his name being called off of the roll; much to boy's embarrassment.

After taking a moment to properly introduce himself as Professor Flitwick, the miniature professor then proceeded to give a demonstration of some of the things that they would be learning from him over the next few years. In no time at all, he had objects dancing around the classroom and changing colours at random whilst showering the room in snow-flakes and (oddly enough) pop-corn.

However, there were more than a few groans when Professor Flitwick proceeded to announce that they wouldn't be starting with actual magic for another couple of weeks. First, they would have to get though many hours of theory about how to actually use a wand without harming the person sitting next to them.

Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall had been a similar experience, although they had actually entered the classroom to find it empty (causing many to walk right out again, thinking that they were in the wrong place). A few minutes after the start of the class, a cat walked in, only for it to turn into Professor McGonagall whilst still in mid stride. When she reached the front of the room, she turned to face the class and silently regarded her stunned students.

She then proceeded to give them a lengthy lecture about the dangers of what they would be learning in her class, while they all took copious amounts notes. Harry, of course, had remembered to bring his quill with him to this class (even though he rather disliked the archaic writing implement).

Not all of his classes had been as enjoyable though. Most of the first-years had been surprised to find that their History class actually _was_ taught by a ghost (Harry had thought that Tonks had just been joking with him). They had eventually found out that Professor Binns was rumoured to have died one day in the staff room and yet was so dedicated to his work that he refused to let death stop him from teaching.

Once Harry had gotten used to the idea of being in the presence of the ghost, he had actually found that what he was being taught was somewhat interesting. He only wished that _how_ it was taught was done differently. Harry quite enjoyed living, and didn't fancy death by boring professor.

His Defence Against the Dark Arts class (which many of the first-years were looking forward to) also turned out to be anything but enjoyable. They had been sorely disappointed to find that the class was being taught by a stuttering man whom seemed to be afraid of his own shadow. The horrid stench from all the garlic that was around the room didn't make the class any more enjoyable either. Even Hedwig (whom had been accompanying Harry to many of his classes) seemed to be agitated by that class.

Out of all of his initial classes, the one that Harry would have to say was the most memorable would be his potions class. Unfortunately, it wasn't memorable for being enjoyable...

~oOo~

The first-year Hufflepuffs were lined up along the wall waiting with the first-year Ravenclaws. Many of the young students had taken to wrapping their robes tightly around themselves in the cold corridor where they stood, including Harry. When they had been told that they were having this class in the dungeons, they hadn't been expecting to find _actual_ cold, dark and dank dungeons.

As soon as the bell tolled, many floors above them, the door to the Potions classroom opened and a man dressed entirely in black told them to be seated. The man, who didn't introduce himself, begun straight away by taking a roll-call. Like may of his other Professors, Professor Snape paused when he reached Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "_Miss_ Potter. Five points from Hufflepuff, for wearing an incorrect uniform _Miss_ Potter."

The professor proceeded to finish calling the names off of the roll, while Harry tried to melt into his chair. He had noticed how many of the students in the school would stare at him and whisper as he passed. It was difficult to ignore really, some of them would chuckle as they mentioned the mishap during the sorting ceremony, whilst others would just stare at him in silence. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were measuring him with their eyes; and that he was falling short.

As soon as the Professor had finished, he regarded the class with a cold, hard eye for a few moments before speaking.

"You are here to learn that subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke quietly, but every ear heard clearly. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep though human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the sense... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death... if you aren't as big as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence followed the professor's speech and Harry could see a few of the Ravenclaws were practically foaming at the mouth over the professor's words (a thought that he found to be rather disturbing). As for himself, Harry was still trying to work out how this was going to be any different from a cooking class. However, at least it wasn't as strange as having a whole class dedicated to nothing but stargazing.

"Potter!" said the Professor suddenly, startling Harry from where he was glancing around the room. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced at Justin, whom was sitting next to him, but he looked just as stumped as Harry was. He realised that it would be a potion of some type, but he had now idea which.

"I don't know, sir," he eventually replied.

"Tut, tut. Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry had absolutely no idea what a bezoar was, let alone where he could find one. Swallowing a lump in his throat, a thought struck him and he pointed to the large cabinet at the front of the room, the one with all the odd looking ingredients.

"In that cabinet, sir?" he tentatively asked. A number of snickers where heard throughout the room.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff, for your cheek, Potter!" the Potions Professor snapped.

"While it is true that a well stocked supply cabinet will likely contain an bezoar," the Professor continued more sedately, "the correct answer is in the stomach of a goat, and it is a stone will cure many poisons. Also, for your information, powdered root of asphodel, when added to an infusion of wormwood, yields the base for a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Well? Why aren't any of you writing that down?"

There was a mad flurry of scratching as the class wrote down those few (and rather odd) facts.

For Harry, the class didn't improve much from there. The Professor had set them about making a simple potion to cure boils. No matter how hard Harry tried, the Professor always seemed to find something that he was doing wrong. With all the criticism about his poor abilities, Harry was rather surprised to find that he managed to end up with something that resembled what was described in their instructions. But then again, Harry already know how to cook.

~oOo~

A few weeks into the school year found Harry reading quietly in the common room.

"So, I heard on the gossip mill that we have a natural flyer amongst our firsties," stated Tonks as she flopped down next to Harry on the couch he was sitting on.

"Huh?" said Harry as he startled slightly and looked up from the book he was reading. It had taken him a while, but he thought that he may be getting used to Tonks popping up at odd times like this.

"You really need to pay more attention around here, Kid," Tonks laughed, earning a scowl from Harry.

It was one of the first signs of the boy beginning to break out of the shell he was hiding in and Tonks couldn't help but feel rather proud of that achievement. She had noticed, early on, that Harry was a very introverted person, so she had taken it upon herself to help break him out of his shell. After all, she was here to help him, wasn't she?

"Seriously though," she continued, "from the sounds of things, your a right ace up there on a broom."

"It's not that hard," he mumbled shyly.

"Not hard? Harry, it normally takes weeks of practice to get the hang of flying. I hear that you've even caught Stevenson's eye. If your not careful, you're going to find yourself roped into Quidditch, when you're old enough."

"Quidditch?" Harry asked in confusion.

Tonks blinked at him. How could anyone not know what quidditch was, even muggle-borns generally learned that within the first week. This was just unheard of.

"Uh, Tonks? Are you okay?" asked Harry

"You've been here for nearly three weeks now and you _still_ don't know what quidditch is?" she asked after shaking herself back to conscious thought.

Harry shifting nervously in his seat, this was yet another thing that he hadn't known he needed to learn. No matter how much he worked at it, there was always something else. Whilst the first thing was simply not knowing how to turn on the glow-stones in the dorm room (who would have guessed that the muggle light-bulb had actually been an attempt to copy glowing crystals?), the most embarrassing had been when he had discovered that witches and wizards didn't use toilet paper. So far, having to ask how the three sea shells worked had been the most embarrassing conversion he had ever had.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Tonks said, seeing him begin to crawl back into his shell. "It's only a sport that we play here. Chances are that Stevenson's going to explain it all to you at some stage anyway."

"So, he wants me play a sport? I'm not very good at sports. Well, unless its running."

"And now you can add flying to that list," Tonks stated firmly. "What are you reading there anyway? I would have thought that you would be busy with homework like other firsties are."

"I'm finished already," Harry said with a shrug. "I've been working in Aunt Petunia's garden for a while now, so Herbology really isn't that difficult. I'm not the only one though, Hannah finished long before I did."

"So... what's the book?"

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, before glancing around the room and then leaning in closer to Tonks and lowing his voice. "It's one of my Mum's diaries. But please don't tell anyone, I've noticed how... _weird_ people act whenever someone mentions her and I don't really want them to know I have them just yet."

"Well, I'm not sure the common room is the best place to read it then; but I won't tell. I have to admit though," she added as she eyed the book curiously, "I wouldn't mind learning a bit more about her. The magical world used to be a very wizard orientated world, until she... well when she... you know..."

Tonks trailed off awkwardly as she realised what she was saying. She couldn't help but feel like she should go and see Madam Pomfrey in order to to have her foot extracted from her mouth again. No matter how many times she told herself not to bring it up, conversation with Harry always seemed to gravitate back towards that night.

Harry was silent for a while, as he tried to make sense of his thoughts and emotions. Ever since learning that his parents hadn't died in a car crash (like he had originally been told), he had dreamed about them off and on. The dreams (those that he could remember, at least) would start out fairly pleasant, with peculiar things like flying purple dogs popping up every now and then. But, sooner or later, things would always take a turn for the worse.

He always woke up when the screaming started.

Looking back down at his mother's diary, a name jumped out at him and he was struck with a sudden bit of inspiration.

"Hey, Tonks?" he asked, startling the girl from where she had been staring at the floor.

"Yeah, Harry?"

"How would I go about finding a particular wizard?"

~oOo~

Hedwig sat on a perch in the owlery with the owlish equivalent of a brooding expression upon her face. After nearly three weeks, she had finally worked up enough courage to approach the immortal one about the bad feeling she had been getting from what she now knew to be one particular magic user.

She would have preferred to have sought the advice of the others, but she still hadn't been able to locate them; and that was another thing that was beginning to worry her. A dozen of the most highly trained watchers in the world don't just suddenly disappear! She was sorely tempted to fly back to Surrey, just to see if they had indeed even left or if they had gotten lost along the way. But with that ominous presence here she didn't dare leave the fledgeling alone.

That was why she had finally approached the immortal one, if anyone could help her, it was him. She had briefly contemplated seeing if some of the other owls here could aid her, but they had all turned out to be nothing more than glorified homing pigeons. They even had the audacity to claim that she had no right to use the perches here. She had soon shown them, though. They were merely trained to carry things; she was trained to fight.

The immortal's advice, though... it just didn't sit right with her. _"Don't act, but be ready to react. If the child remains hidden, then he will be okay."_

Hidden? The fledgeling was anything _but_ hidden at the moment. How could he be hiding from a threat when he was within plain sight of it? Even though she had been trained to sit back and watch, she didn't like this one bit; not when there was clear danger. She should be doing something, _anything_, but the immortal had been adamant that she didn't twitch a feather and that it was all under control. What did he know about anything anyway? _She_ was the one trained for this, not him.

Her expression relaxed slightly, as she finally realised something. What _could_ she do? She was alone here at the moment (well, aside from a single immortal that was too lazy to do anything productive) and she was likely to get them all killed if she tried anything by herself. She needed to find the others. But, how?

* * *

**A/N:**

You know, I've always wondered what the back-lash of Sirius' imprisonment would have meant on the rest of his family. We know that Andromeda was his favourite cousin, but what impact did his incarceration have one her. It's a pity that she only gets on small scene in canon as I think her story could have been a really interesting one.

So, now you know why Tonks reacted like she did. Damn I'm mean, making her break the news to Harry like that. Oh well, serves her right for making be have to rewrite those scenes so many times that I lost count.

A few quirks of magic to think about:

1) The glow-stones. I know that we see candles and lamps and sconces in canon, but how would a five-year-old turn these off and on without the use of magic and without burning the house down? My solution was to borrow from Peter Jackson's realisation of Fellowship of the Ring; good old Kiwi ingenuity (well, maybe Tolkein ingenuity): a glowing crystal that can safely be turned on and off... somehow (none of the characters have shown me how they work yet)

2) The toilet paper thing. If you have ever seen how toilet paper is made, you can't help but feel that it is a decidedly _muggle_ way of doing things. I just can't picture someone like Lucius Malfoy going to the local supermarket to buy a pack of loo paper, let alone actually using it. So, in a society that uses magic for every conceivable task, it was the three sea shells to the rescue (courtesy of the movie The Demolition Man). Again I'm haven't been told how these work, but I would suspect something along the lines of maybe one wet, one dry, one polish?


	10. Curiosity

**Chapter 9 – Curiosity**

"_Curiosity killed the cat"_

_That is a saying that most people living the 'westernised world' have heard at one time or another, but what does it mean? Often, it is used as a method of telling children that they should stay away from things that don't concern them. But is that what it really means?_

_One could easily argue that it isn't meant to deter people, but rather to caution them. An overly curious cat could investigate something at the cost of its own life, but a cautiously curious cat could possibly get the answers they seek and yet still get to keep their life._

_It makes one wonder how many phrases such as these have had their meanings twisted and distorted over the years by evolving culture. How much wisdom have we lost like this?_

~oOo~

Somewhere north-east of Glasgow, a lone owl could be seen flying slowly over Loch Striven. While many people would be surprised to see a supposedly nocturnal creature flying about during a sunny mid-October afternoon, those who knew something about owls wouldn't have been surprised to see a diurnal owl hunting during the day. However, unlike most of the hunting flights that this particular owl had set out upon, this particular hunt was different because this bird was hunting other owls. Twelve of them, to be precise.

Hedwig had been looking for the missing watchers for nearly a week now; ever since she had returned to Little Whinging. Driven by the need to do something, she had finally conceded to the fact that she needed to know what had happened to to them. With great reluctance, she had left the fledgling in the care of the immortal (even though he still didn't seem to know what he was doing) and had set out nearly two weeks ago, for the journey back to Surrey. The trip had taken her three days; much longer than she thought it would have, given that it had taken less than a day to reach Scotland in the first place. She supposed that it had to be expected though, as there there was that little unexpected side-trip to Southampton. Contrary to what her younger cousin had ended up claiming, she had _not_ gotten lost.

Needless to say, her return to Little Whinging had not been a well received by most of the others. Not only had her ageing uncle done his best to personally clip her wings for disobeying orders, but it had taken almost two whole days to convince the elders that the assigned parliament of watchers had never made it to their destination. Unfortunately, it had then taken yet another day to convince them that the fledgling was in the care of an immortal one (and that, yes, immortal birds actually did exist) and that he was perfectly safe at the moment (a rather difficult task when not even she believed that).

In the end, it had all come down to Hoot-twoot-click interceding for her on all three accounts. It was a fact that made her decidedly uncomfortable, given her transgressions towards him when she had sneaked off with the fledgeling. Although he was displeased with her behaviour, he had admitted that he was actually thankful for the fact that she hadn't stayed behind in Little Whinging. If she had stayed behind then they would never have known that those who had been assigned to watch over the fledgeling were in fact missing.

Given that most of those whom had stayed behind were either too young or too old to safely make the flight (or they had hatchlings to look after), Hedwig was instructed to accompany those that could make the trip to Scotland. Along the way, the parliament of five were to also try and discover what had become of the other watchers, but not at the expense of leaving the fledgeling unguarded. In a move that surprised many, Hoot-twoot-click had successfully advocated for Hedwig to be given leadership over the small parliament, citing that her resourcefulness in sneaking off, knowledge of the situation, and her affinity with the fledgeling made her the perfect candidate.

And that was how Hedwig now came to be circling over Lock Striven, this current afternoon. The five owls had slowly followed the same flightpath north that the original watchers were to have followed. They had made it all the way up to Glasgow, but had found no sign of their peers. After passing Glasgow, Hedwig had had the others spread out so that they could scout the greater area surrounding the school (something that Hedwig had not been able to do by herself). The eldest amongst them, a nine year-old male barn owl by the name of Hic-hic-twill, had volunteered to take the eastern edge, while Hedwig took the western edge, a flightpath which would take her out towards the coast before turning north-north-east and straight on towards Hogwarts. Shortly after she the parliament had split up, Hedwig had soon found out why Hic-hic-twill had been so fast to volunteer to take the inland path: seagulls.

Having spent nearly all of her life in Little Whinging, she had never realised how irritating gulls could get. After yelling at them for what had to be the hundredth time to keep the noise down, she corrected her course slightly and continued on. She only flew for a few more minutes, before she started to get the feeling that something was decidedly wrong. Banking slightly to the left, she flew in a few lazy circles as she scanned the area about her. It was on her third circle that she realised that the gulls had gone silent. In their place was an odd cawing sound that she thought sounded awfully familiar.

Angling more sharply towards the coastline, she headed out towards the sound in order to investigate. As she got closer, her owlish eyes were able to discern large black shapes gliding though the air. She had first seen these bizarre creatures at the fledgeling's school, and had promptly begun wondering whether or not the Lord of Flight had been in his right mind when he had created such an ugly looking bird. Even so, her morbid curiosity got the better of her and she continued towards them for a closer look.

Little did she know at the time, but she had just made a very big mistake. Whereas the thestrals at Hogwarts had been tamed from a very young age to never attack owls, the wild thestrals that Hedwig had stumbled upon had no such upbringing.

With a loud caw, one of the thestrals detected Hedwig, turned sharply and surged towards the lone owl. For a moment, Hedwig was awed by the sheer speed that the thestral was able to obtain. At least that was before realising that it was on a direct course towards her. It wasn't a friendly approach either, it was a hunting manoeuvre and with the speed it was travelling at, it was already almost on top of her.

Grateful for all of the flight drills that she had been subjected to during her training, she rolled over to her side and tucked in her wings, allowing herself to go into a shallow dive. As soon as she had crossed paths with the thestral, she snapped out her wings and clenched her talons tightly at the strain that rippled though her chest-muscles as she pulled out of the dive. While an owl was nowhere near as good at this as a falcon, learning the manoeuvre that had been named the 'Falcon Drop' had been an essential part of her Watcher training and was one part in which she had excelled.

Following-up on the manoeuvre with a couple of powerful flaps, she took a quick glance behind her and was shocked to see that the thestral was following her with a dive of its own (albeit a rather gangly looking one) and was still in close pursuit.

Quickly realising that she wouldn't be able to match it for speed, she hoped that she could still be able to out-manoeuvre it enough that it would leave her alone. With a half-formed plan in mind, she suddenly turned directly towards the thestral and tucked in her left wing at the last second, while giving a strong down-wards push with her right. It was a manoeuvre that would have allowed her to roll clear the thestrals legs, as it passed on her right and it would have most likely succeeded if the thestral hadn't been so damned fast.

Luckily for Hedwig, the only injury sustained by the thestrals snapping mouth had been a lone feather that it managed to pluck from her tail. However, it was more than enough to throw her off whilst in the middle of a manoeuvre, and sent her tumbling towards the ground, stinging tail and all.

For a brief moment she feared that her flying skills may not get her out of this alive.

Now desperate to put some distance between between her and the thestral, she fought hard to turn her tumble into another Falcon Drop and angled herself straight towards the trees that were below her. It was a much steeper drop than she had ever attempted before, but it _was_ a desperate move because the thestral was still, somehow, right behind her.

As the trees rapidly grew in size, she closed her eyes and snapped her wings out again; crying out this time as her higher speed caused a sudden shock of pain to burn across her chest. Cracking an eye open to could check her horizon, her breath caught in her throat before she quickly swerved as hard as she dared and narrowly dodged the tree trunk that she had been about to hit.

Barely a second later, she heard the welcoming sounds of a sharp snap, follow by a cry of pain and a dull thud. Risking a look behind her, she saw that the thestral's larger wingspan had meant that it hadn't been as lucky when it came to dodging the tree and that it was now sporting a broken wing. Without wasting time, Hedwig flapped her wings as hard as her sore muscles would let her and powered on towards Hogwarts as fast as she could.

Though she was glad that she had been able to escape with her life, she couldn't help but wonder how many other owls that that particular thestral and its flock had attacked.

~oOo~

That same afternoon, further north and a little bit to the east, a thirteen year old girl sat with a slight grin on her face as she observed a worktable not too far from where she was sitting in the Hogwarts library.

She had finally gotten around to letting her parents know of the situation between herself and Harry. Needless to say, her mother had been very pleased and had encouraged her to continue trying to break Harry out of his shell... Okay, so maybe she hadn't said it in as many words, but it was all there right between the lines of the letter. What else could she have meant by her "taking this responsibility seriously"?

Case in point: lately Harry had been a bit upset because his owl seemed to be missing, so she had taken upon herself the serious responsibility of breaking him out of his funk. She had even managed to convince him that he needed to spend more time with the other first-years, so here he was now, working in the Library with a group of friends. Score one for Tonks, as far as she was concerned.

Current sitting at the table that Tonks was spying upon, Harry stretched slightly and put down his quill so that he could shake some feeling back into his writing hand. How Professor Snape was able to tell whenever he used a fountain pen, Harry had no idea. But it did mean that Harry now needed to stick with a quill for two classes instead of one.

Glancing around at his fellow Hufflepuffs, he couldn't help but feel a slight tug at the corner of his lips at how willingly they had accepted him. He wasn't sure, but he thought that maybe this was how friendships started; he wasn't sure because Hedwig had just sort of popped up one day. Harry frowned for a moment. While he was still sad that she was nowhere to be found, the sadness had been pushed aside today by an odd feeling of anxiety. It was this feeling that spiked suddenly as he reached for his quill, causing him to pause with his hand in the air. Shaking his head slightly and doing his best to curb the strange feeling, he grabbed his quill and dipped it into the inkwell once more.

He was about to carry on with his essay when the sound of a door being slammed made him jump in his seat. Quickly looking around for the source of the noise, Harry was surprised to see Hannah Abbott thumping her head upon her essay. That was odd, he thought. He could have sworn it was a door that he had heard.

"Hannah!" cried Susan, obviously as startled at Hannah's behaviour as Harry was.

"Why do Ravenclaws have to ask so many questions?" the distraught girl asked as she finally let her forehead rest on the desk. "I feel like my brain's going to explode if I try to cram one more thing into it!"

"I know what you mean," mumbled Justin from where he was working on his own essay about the definitions of the many categories of potions; all because McDougall had to keep asking questions. He rubbed his hands over his face a few times before looking towards Susan. "What time is it, Susan?"

Susan rolled her eyes at the old question but checked her watch anyway. "Twenty to four and I thought you guys said you were going to get new watches."

Harry shifted in his seat a little bit. In truth, he kept forgetting to check the owl-order catalogues that were in the common room.

"My parents did send me another one," replied Justin with a slight grimace. "It _was_ an analogue one, but it still ran off of a battery, so it wouldn't work here either. I sent it back the other day with a note saying that it needed to be wind-up one. Why can't they just make it so that normal watches will work here?"

"It's illegal," mumbled Hannah from where she still had her head resting on her essay.

Harry blinked for a moment then turned to face Susan. "Illegal?" he asked.

He had learned early on that Susan's Aunt worked in law enforcement. Apparently she was supposed to be a well known person, but Harry had never heard of her before. Then again, Harry had never even heard of the magical world until just over two months ago.

"Yeah," she said with a shrug. "It's illegal to enchant most muggle artefacts."

"Muggle _what_?" asked Justin.

"Muggle artefact. You know they're... well, uh... hmm. You know, I don't rightly know what they are exactly. Whatever could be found in the muggle world, I would guess."

Justin and Harry shared a confused look. Having both grown up in in the non-magical world, they could both tell that such a description could cover just about anything imaginable. If it was true, then that would mean that many of the enchanted items that they had seen in their month or so at Hogwarts were likely to be illegal.

"Enough of this, I'm going outside for a bit before dinner," Hannah declared as she stood up from the table.

Susan looked up at friend and immediately started giggling, drawing the attention of the two boys, who also fought chuckles at the sight.

"What?" snapped the irritated girl as she scowled at her friend.

"Your supposed to write the essay on the parchment, not your forehead, Silly."

Hannah looked down at her essay and frowned in puzzlement for a moment before an expression of horror crept over her face. Raising her hand up to her forehead, she rubbed it a bit before before looking at he hand. Whimpering she began frantically rubbing at her forehead.

"Hannah! Hannah, stop! Your making it worse like that. Come on, there's some seniors over there from our house. They'll be able to show us how to get the ink off."

Harry watched as Susan led Hannah over to a group of what looked to be seventh years. He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty with laughing at Hannah's predicament; he had been laughed at enough to know that it wasn't nice. Even so, something felt rather odd about Hannah's behaviour.

"Hey, Justin?"

"Yeah."

"Have you noticed anything a bit odd about Hannah recently?"

"Like what?"

"Well, I don't know, but isn't she usually..." Harry paused for a moment as he tried to find the right word, "... _happy_ and such?"

"Hmm, yeah," Justin replied slowly as he turned around to where one of the seniors was teaching Hannah and Susan some spell for cleaning the ink off of Hannah's forehead. After a moment, he turned back to Harry with a thoughtful look on his face.

"I wonder if she has the same problem my older sister used to have," he pondered.

"What's that?"

"Well, when I was younger, my sister used to get all grumpy-like, just before the full moon. I remember that I used to call her a werewolf, or at least I did until my mum put a stop to it. After the full moon though, she would always be right as rain."

The boys were silent for a moment as Harry watched Susan wave her wand at Hannah's forehead. After a moment he shook his head and started gathering up his books and parchment, while the girls started heading back to towards them.

"Nah that can't be it, the full moon was last week," he told Justin.

"And a good thing too," said Justin as he too began to pack up his things. "I have absolutely no intention of meeting a werewolf now that I know they're real."

After returning various books to the shelves and checking out those that they would need to finish their essays before their next potions class, the four first-years began their trek back to the Hufflepuff dormitories so they could put their book bags away. None of them were aware of the three sets of eyes that had been watching them as they did so.

While one set of eyes belonged to the thirteen year-old girl that had been watching them off an on for a while now, the other two had been much more subtle in the observation.

The first belonged to a portly professor whom had been in the library conducting a bit of private research. Professor Sprout had noticed (with more than a little concern) the way that Nymphadora had been stealing looks at young Harry. It had also been impossible not to notice the way that the young Abbott girl had been mortified when the boy had laughed at her predicament.

Worrying her lip, she glanced down at the book of magical creatures that she had been reading through. The Hogwarts library may have been one of the largest in Magical Europe, but it seemed to be woefully inadequate on this one particular subject. Finally resigning herself to the inevitable, she closed the book and returned it to the shelf. If books wouldn't provide the necessary answers, then perhaps a visit to Professor Kettleburn would help.

Meanwhile, high above all the shelves, where students and professors rarely looked, the final set of eyes belonged to a very rare, very old bird. Fawkes had been keeping an eye on the young wizard for a while now, ever since the young owl had stated her intention to seek out her missing companions. Whether she had wanted to admit it or not, Fawkes could tell that she needed help in her self-appointed task. She was rapidly wearing herself out without it.

Now, as he watched the young children exit the library, he stared after the boy with a thoughtful expression. He had heard the children talking, and he had been around humans long enough to _know_ that the boy was sad, but he couldn't _sense_ anything from him. He could clearly feel the smugness of the blue-haired girl, the concern from Pomona and the... Fawkes blinked rapidly for a moment, before turning towards the back of the library and confirmed (yet again) that some couples really did need to learn to be discrete. But that one boy... There was something strange about how he didn't have any 'feel' to him.

There was no doubt now, that he was the One. Aside from what the sorting hat had confirmed earlier, anybody who knew what to look for could feel it in the air surrounding him. It was a presence that shouldn't have been there and it was old, very old (even by his standards) and it was wrapped around him so tightly that Fawkes often wondered how it was that the child didn't suffocate. Cocking his head to one side, he pondered a new thought: perhaps that was why the boy didn't have any 'feel'.

After one more glance around the library, Fawkes decided that it was time for another hunt. After all, the boy was in Hogwarts' care at the moment.

While others were plotted for the future, the four young Hufflepuffs were making their way down the moving stairs while Susan explained the spell that the girls had been taught for cleaning up spilt ink.

"... so there you go. The Tergeo charm."

"So, you can use it for cleaning anything?" Harry asked.

"Well, I'm not sure. I guess we'd have to borrow a charms book from one of the second years to be sure. But they did say that it was a lot gentler than a scougify which makes it good for delicate things."

Justin couldn't resist a chuckle at that. "Huh, so girls are delicate."

Both Susan and Hannah quickly spun around to berate Justin for his choice of phrasing. However, before they could speak their first words, both girls let out a squeal of surprise. It had been unfortunate for them that they had both turned around at the same time that the stairs gave a sudden, sharp jolt and started to swing around to a new position.

"Just who was it that decided the school needed a set of crazy stairs?" groused Susan once she had regained her footing. She had been walking down the middle of the staircase at the time, so had been unable to grab hold of the railing. The only thing that had prevented her from falling down the steps had been Harry snapping out his hand and grabbing her wrist when the stairs had jolted.

"I don't know, but I plan on having a word with them," grumbled Hannah. Hannah glanced over to make sure her friend was okay, before scowling deeply and turning back to Justin. "How come Susan gets saved by Harry and yet you let me fall on my bum?" she asked angrily.

Justin took a hasty step back, honestly concerned for his safety at that moment.

"Um... Sorry?" he tried.

Remembering their journey to from London to Hogwarts, Harry opened his mouth and spoke before thinking. "Given the trouble he had on the train, I'd say you would have been worse off if he had tried to catch you," he said with a grin.

"Traitor," Justin growled at him.

Harry's grin faltered for a moment. Had he said the wrong thing?

"Come on, Mr Hero," Justin eventually chuckled and he continued on down the stairs once they had stopped moving. "And bring the damsel in distress with you!"

"Hey! I am not a damsel in distress!" cried Susan as she chased Justin down the stairs.

Harry and Hannah chose to follow them at a more sedate pace. When they reached the door at the bottom of the stairs, they stepped though and saw that Susan had managed to catch up with Justin and the two of them were pensively staring down a dark, door-less corridor.

"What is this place?" Hannah whispered.

"I'm not sure, but what's up with the lights not working?" replied Justin.

They were just about to turn around and head back to the stairs when the door they had just passed though slammed shut, cutting off their only source of light and causing the girls to scream in unison.

There was a moment of silence before Justin murmured, "Lumos," followed shortly by a much stronger, "Lumos!"

Susan and Hannah, seeing a source of light, unconsciously gravitated towards it. It wasn't that they were afraid of the dark, in fact neither of them had ever been afraid of darkness. Even so, standing in a foreboding location and having a sudden noise signal the lose of all light did tend to make one re-evaluate their immediate concerns.

Harry, however, was staring curiously at the door. Something stirred within his mind at that moment but he wasn't sure what to make of it. Cautiously moving about in the darkness, he found the door and tried to open it.

"It won't budge," he said after a while, causing someone to let out a small whimper, he wasn't exactly sure who it was. Turning back towards his companions, he finally noticed Justin's lit wand. "How did you get your wand to do that?" he asked in genuine curiosity.

"H-huh? Oh, um, Jason taught it to me. He said we'd learn it later in the year but that it was too handy to have to wait that long. It's just a three-quarter, counter-parisian twirl with the incantation: 'Lumos'."

Both of the girls immediately reached for their wands and followed the instructions that Justin's mentor had provided. Hannah managed a respectable yellow light for a first try, but Susan only managed a soft orange glow on her third. Under normal circumstances she would have tried it again, but given their current situation she figured that it was good enough.

Harry, thinking that an extra source of light would be a good idea, pulled his wand out and tried it as well. "Lumos!" he declared as he twirled his wand.

Whereas the others had produced various strengths of light, from soft orange to bright yellow, Harry's wand gave an almighty flare and produced a brilliant white light that had them all turning away and shielding their eyes.

"Bloody hell, Harry!"

"How do I turn it off?"

"A standard, reverse flick of your wand and say _'Nox'_!" supplied Justin

Harry did so and the light at the tip of his wand obediently died.

"I think I blinded myself," he mumbled as he blinked rapidly. "Ah good, I can still see spots." He looked over at the others a bit sheepishly and continued, "I think I'd better practice that one before I try it again. Now how about we find a way out of here?"

The group walked down the dark corridor for a couple of minutes without finding any other doors, which they all thought to be rather odd, even with all the strange things that Hogwarts held. When they did finally manage to find another door, they were dismayed to find that it had someone (or rather some_thing_) floating in front of it with its head stuck though through the door.

Obviously hearing their approach, the school's resident poltergeist pulled his head out of the door and turned towards the group. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself as he got a good look at the first-years. With a wide, mischievous grin growing on his translucent face, he waved the group over towards him.

"Come, come," he said, "I sneaked in and found what the old man hides."

Even in scary situations such as being locked in a dark corridor, learning a secret still held a rather enticing allure to it. Against their better judgement and curious as to what Peeves was talking about, they slowly moved as one towards the poltergeist.

When they were next to the door, they watched in fascination as Peeves stuck his tongue between his teeth and his jammed his whole hand into the lock on the door. He wiggled his arm around a bit and crossed his eyes slightly causing a click of the lock to be heard and allowing the door to be swung open. With a slightly nervous glance at each other, the first-years stepped though the door.

They didn't have to go far before they found what was being hidden. A giant, three-headed dog was sleeping on the ground, with a large chain (thankfully) securing it to the wall.

"What is it?" whispered a bewildered Susan.

"It looks like a cerberus," supplied Justin, "I heard about them at primary school."

"That is one _big_ dog," Hannah stated.

Harry stood there staring at the sleeping three-headed dog as he tried to breath in. He had never been afraid of dogs before, not even 'Aunt' Marge's dogs. Yet, as soon as he laid his eyes upon his one, he had been struck by a sudden sensation of not being able to breath in. Eventually he was able to gain enough control over his lungs to make one comment.

"We need to get out of here," he whispered urgently. He didn't know why he had said those particular words, but they were soon proved justified.

It was a morbidly fascinating sight to behold, seeing the three large heads all going though the various motions of waking up. It was almost as though they were part of some strangely choreographed dance. It was fascinating, that is, until the three-headed dog realised that it was no longer alone in the room. With a sudden lunge, the creature leapt towards them, straining at the end of its heavy chain as it barked and snapped at them. After jumping backwards with a number of startled yells, the four young Hufflepuffs scurried over one another in their haste to leave the room, each one electing to make sure that the door was firmly closed behind them. Peeves chose to follow them at a more sedate pace where he sat in mid-air and slowly floated backwards though the door, all with a curious frown upon his face.

Peeves pursed his lips and stared at the door along with the four equally pale humans, "Why would doggy be sitting on a door?" he finally asked.

"More like why would doggy be sitting in a school?" asked Harry.

"At the moment I'm more interested in how we get away from said doggy," added Susan.

"Oh! Peeves help!" said Peeves as he spun around to face Susan with a cheery grin.

"No!" Hannah quickly interrupted. She had been on the receiving end of a number of Peeves' 'helpful' endeavours. "No, we're okay, we just need to know which way to go."

Peeves' shoulders dropped slightly at the apparent change in attitude, but still pointed them in the direction of a secret passage. Though Harry's passing 'thank-you' did help to perk him up a bit.

Following the light of the three wands, they eventually found the secret passage behind a false wall that was hidden behind a suit of armour; just where Peeves had said it was. The secret passage didn't appear to be very secret though.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" asked a ginger-haired boy.

"It looks like ickle firsties, brother of mine," relied an identical looking boy.

"Ickle Hufflepuff firsties at that dear brother."

"Now what would four ickle firsties-"

"_Hufflepuff_ firsties."

"Quite right, quite right."

"Yes. Now what would four Hufflepuff firsties be doing here?"

"In the forbidden corridor off all places?"

"Trying to get away from a deranged poltergeist and rabid, three-headed dog," stated Susan.

"Peeves?" asked the first twin.

"Fluffy?" asked the second.

"Well I guess that would make sense, George."

"You're absolutely right, Fred. Death by Fluffy would be most painful..."

"and messy..."

"Crunchy too..."

"Oh, and not to forget slobbery"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," interjected Hannah, raising her hands to try and break up the to-ing an fro-ing. "That _thing_ back there is called _'Fluffy'_?"

"Well, if it's Hagrid's, it is," replied the one of the left.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"We've known Fluffy since he was a wee pup!"

"A delightful pup he was,"

"Always wanting to play."

"Very friendly too,"

"When you know how to calm him that is."

"A nice steak meal usually does the trick."

"But Hagrid prefers to sing to him..."

Both of the boys shuddered dramatically before finishing, in unison. "_Never_ let Hagrid sing!"

"Well, we'll leave you to your... _friend_ then," said Justin as he edged around the two Gryffindors in front of them. He had been a bit unnerved at how they were able to talk like that. Even for twins, such things just shouldn't be possible without serious rehearsal.

As they finally continued their journey to their dormitories, Harry couldn't help but ponder as to the reason why such a creature was kept in a school. Also, what had Peeves meant by the dog sitting on a door?

~oOo~

Harry was still pondering this question when he ran it past Tonks on his way up to breakfast the following morning, with Hedwig perched on his shoulder. She had finally shown up at the window early this morning and had since refused to let him out of her sight. Not that Harry minded too much, he had missed her presence and was more than a little curious to know what had happened to her.

"Well, it's obvious isn't it?" asked Tonks.

Harry looked at her as though she had grown an extra head for a moment before Tonks elaborated.

"Well, the only reason to keep something like that in a school would be to guard something. The question you _should_ be asking is what is it guarding," she said with a pointed look towards Harry which caused her to stumble.

Harry suppressed a snort at the sight. He had learned quickly that Tonks seemed to have a slight balance problem. She had passed it off as just the result of a bad morph from an early experiment at morphing her ears. One that she had been trying to learn how to correct. Though Harry did have to wonder if the only problem was that she had accidentally morphed herself two left feet and was now stuck with them.

Scowling at Harry for a moment, Tonks faced forward and continued talking (though now more to herself than to Harry). "I wonder what would be so important that they would risk having such a creature in a school full of kids. I mean, Hogwarts is already supposed to be the safest place in all of the U.K., so why the need for a guard dog?"

Harry had to agree that they were good questions, and they took up most of his own concentration as he made his way up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Breakfast had become a fairly standard affair now. Harry still managed to wake before the majority of the student body, which Harry had to admit was a good thing, given that he still had to replace his watch (and with it, his alarm). Hedwig joined him on occasion (with the exception of the past few weeks), usually swooping in with the mail owls. Harry had yet to received any mail from anyone but he didn't mind this as there was only one letter that he was hoping to receive.

Looking up from his cereal at the sound of flapping wings, Harry scanned the morning mail-owl contingent to see if there had been a reply to the letter he had sent over a fortnight ago. The sight of a rather tired looking school owl landing roughly in front of him made him both excited and nervous.

Hedwig, who was standing on the table at the time, didn't have the same feelings about the owl as Harry and she let out a small sharp bark at the owl as though laughing at its clumsy landing. The barn owl just let out a series of tired sounding hoots that apparently chastised Hedwig, as she let out a rather sheepish sound while Harry retrieved his post. He gave Hedwig a curious glance, but the owl just stared back at him as though daring him to comment.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Tonks, after unceremoniously plonking herself in the seat next to Harry. Harry realised that she had obviously seen the owl land in front of him and he knew that she was as curious as he was about what was in his dad's package.

Nodding, he opened the letter and began to read, with Tonks reading over his shoulder.

. _ .

_Harry,_

_I must say that I was most surprised when a owl bearing a Hogwarts tag showed up this afternoon. I'm not sure how long it took to find me, but judging by how tired it looked, I would say quite some time. Either that, or it flew all the way to Albania non-stop. That's were I am by the way, I've got a little job here at the moment and don't expect to be back in England for a while._

_I am most pleased that you have thought to write to me, as I hadn't expected you to have heard of me at all. The last time I saw you, you were only one year old and still chasing after your mother's cat wearing nothing but your nappies._

. _ .

At this point Tonks couldn't help but laugh at the image that ran through her mind, causing Harry to flush with embarrassment.

. _ .

_As you already know, I knew your father well, ever since I was your age and we both ended up in the same dormitory at Hogwarts. Lily also became a good friend over the years, which you would likely read about later, in her journals._

_Thinking about it now, I have to chuckle. There was a time when your father was jealous of the fact that Lily liked me more than him. Ah, your father used to drive her crazy trying to gain her attention. He had declared that he was going to marry your mother on the very first night at Hogwarts and then promptly proceeded to gain her attention the only way he knew how: by showing off._

_Learn from your father's mistake here Harry, never try to impress a girl by pranking her friend. Obviously, he did eventually grow out of it and finally managed to achieve his goal. The final result of which was a bouncing baby boy, born just twelve months after the wedding. Your eyes were already as bright as Lily's , and your hair (when your finally grew some that is) was as messy as your father's._

_Now, about your request. I must say that I'm a bit hesitant because of what your father may have left you in that package. I have a few ideas, but am in two minds as to how to proceed, so I'm going to offer the following information on the proviso that you try to keep your head in reality and not go overboard like your father used to._

_Going from the clue that he has left you, I would say that there was only one pass-phrase he could have used:_

"_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."_

_It sounds rather ominous, I know, but we were teenagers back then._

_It's getting late here now, Harry, so I'll finish here for now and send this back with the owl once it's rested. As soon as I get the chance, I'll let some of your father's other old acquaintances know where you are._

_Until then,  
Remus "Mooney" Lupin._

. _ .

"So," said Tonks casually, "there's still, oh, just over half an hour before classes start."

A grin slowly formed on Harry's face before he grabbed his book bag, and dashed out of the great hall. Tonks dashed back up the table to grab her own bag before following him.

~oOo~

While Harry and Tonks were busy reading the letter from Remus Lupin, Pomona Sprout was having what she considered to be a very serious discussion with a particular man that she had finally been able to nail down.

"Yes, I'm quite sure, Pomona. In all the centuries that wizards have studied veela, there has been no documented sighting of a so-called 'Male Veela'. They're myth, pure and simple."

"But surely veela must have male children occasionally? I mean, how can you have a pure veela children without female _and_ male veela."

"Well, yes, it is true that there is sometimes male offspring from a veela mating pair. But you need to realise that no matter how handsome these males are, the studies show that they do _not_ exhibit any of the traits that we would attribute to veela."

"If that is so, then how to pure-blood veela come to be?"

"Ah, that happens when the pure-blooded male offspring of a veela and a pure-blooded female veela mate. For some reason, pure veela offspring are only possible in this scenario, even though the male offspring of veela exhibit no known veela characteristics."

"So, they have _none_ of this so-called veela allure?"

"No, no allure at all. Well, unless you count their physical appearance that is; which I guess is probably what people get confused about. Its the pheromones you see; they don't give off the same pheromones that the females do."

Professor Sprout sighed in relief. "Thank-you, Alfred. You have no idea how comforting that is to hear."

Alfred Kettleburn gave his fellow professor a curious look before shrugging it off an returning to his breakfast. As he ate, Pomona looked down at her Hufflepuffs in relief, at least until she noticed a certain raven-haired first-year dash out of the Great Hall, with an older girl and his familiar following in his wake.

No, she firmly chided herself, they are merely running late for their classes... which begin in half an hour... in two separate locations...

"Oh dear," Pomona whispered before she rose from the table and (as fast as dignifyingly possible) followed the two Hufflepuffs that had just left the hall.

~oOo~

It didn't take long for Harry to make it back to his dorm room and start riffling though his trunk for the package that he had received from his father. He had just taken a seat on the edge of his bed, package in hand, when a puffing Nymphadora Tonks stumbled though his door.

"Bloody Hell, Harry! You could have waited for me," she wheezed out before collapsing onto his bed.

Harry opened his mouth to question what she, a girl, was doing in the boy's dorm when he remembered that he had in fact promised to let her know what was in the package. Closing his mouth and shrugging his shoulders, he turn back to the package that he held in his hands.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned.

He sat there staring at the package for what seemed like an age, wondering what was supposed to happen. He was just about to ask Tonks if she noticed anything, when he felt the package twitch. The package twitched a bit more and Harry watched in wonder as it slowly began to unwrap itself to reveal what appeared to be a plain brown cardboard box. Carefully, he removed the lid from the box and found a thick-looking book sitting inside.

The sound of Tonks' gasp drew his attention towards her. He found her staring at the book with a look of awe on her face.

"Your family's grimoire," she whispered.

"My family's _what?_"

"Grimoire, Harry. The book that holds the secrets of your family. All the really old families have them." Tonks frowned in confusion as she watched Harry carefully removed the obviously important book from the box. "Strange, I thought your family was a young one."

She continued to watch Harry as he gently ran his hand over the cover of the book, his eyes focused on what had to be his memories, or (more likely) his imagination of his parents holding that book. Not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a private moment for the boy, she turned her gaze back to the box and nearly fell off the bed in shock.

"Sweet Merlin in a tu-tu!" she exclaimed as soon as she got her voice working again. "Is that what I think it is?"

Harry, having been brought back down to earth but the odd tone of Tonks' voice, looked back into the box and saw that there was some sort of cloth in there. Curious, he placed the book to the side and picked up the fabric. It was quite large but surprisingly felt like it weighed nothing at all. Holding up what looked to be just a large piece of silvery cloth, he turned to a wide-eye Tonks and asked what it was.

"An invisibility cloak," she breathed. "It... well, it makes you invisible.

If Harry had to guess, he would have said that Tonks seemed to be more stunned to see the piece of fabric than she was the book.

"It makes you invisible?" he asked sceptically.

Shaking herself back to her senses, Tonks felt a grin spread across her face as she carefully took the material from Harry's hands, before standing up.

"Here, let me show you," she said as she swung the cloak around herself, disappearing from view.

Harry stared disbelievingly for a few moments at the spot where Tonks had just disappeared, before they were interrupted by another person rushing into Harry's dorm room.

"Professor Sprout!" Harry greeted in surprise.

The puffing professor seemed to ignore him as she scanned the room, looking for something. However, what she was looking for, he had no idea. The last he had known, she had been enjoying a breakfast conversation with one of the other professors.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" he asked.

Harry's Head of House continued to ignore him for a bit more, as she scanned the room, before finally relaxing and turning to where Harry was sitting.

"Yes, yes, everything is fine, Mr Potter. I was... just looking for someone. Be sure you aren't late for classes now."

Giving the room one last (and slightly confused) glance, she turned and left, muttering to herself about something to do with broom closets and practice rooms. Harry just stared after her with a look of confusion gracing his face.

"And that, Harry," said a rather pale looking Tonks, as she removed the cloak, "is how an invisibility cloak works."

* * *

**A/N:**

Another chapter down and we are somewhere around the half-way mark for this first instalment of the series. The next chapter brings in a familiar scenario from canon and you get to see what affect Harry being in Hufflepuff will impact upon it.

The owls seem to be taking on a life of their own at the moment, but I think that is a good thing. It's also a good thing that I'm editing this story before posting, as otherwise those twelve owls would have fallen though a rather nasty plot-hole. At least now we have an idea as to what happened to them.

A quick note about the thestrals. I haven't been able to find out where they are native to, so I figured a wild heard somewhere around Scotland wouldn't be too strange. We also know from canon that wild thestrals are likely to attack an owl, and they can fly _very_ fast. (the ones in OotP made it from Hogwarts to London faster than the Hogwarts Express could – and they did so without tiring)


	11. Confronting Reality

**Chapter 10 – Confronting Reality**

_It is a well known fact that our lives are filled with confrontations. Sometimes they are small and insignificant, sometimes they are profound and deadly. However, no matter what type of confrontation they may be, they all have an impact upon our personal growth, both as individuals and in relation to others._

_Of all the possible types of confrontation, there are two which stand out as having more impact than any other: The confrontation of Truth and the confrontation of Fear._

~oOo~

Harry sat bolt upright, gasping for breath as he looked about him. It wasn't until he recognised the dark shadow of his bed-curtains that he realised that he had been having a nightmare. Falling back down onto his bed, he cast his mind backwards as he tried to calm his racing heart. He had been running from something... no, some_one_... no, no that wasn't right either. Even while he fought against it, the details of his nightmare slipped past his mental fingers, all except for one thing: he hadn't been able to see. He could vividly remember how it had been so dark that he couldn't even see one his own hands as he waved them in front of his face. That memory held with it a feeling that sent shivers up his spine.

Once he had calmed himself sufficiently, he reached up to activate the glow-stone that was embedded into one of the his bed posts and picked up his new watch to check what time it was.

After his run-in with Hagrid's large three-headed dog, he had finally sat down with one of the owl-order catalogues that were in the common room and proceeded to order himself a new watch. He had found the task to be simpler than he had expected as his choice had been narrowed down to those few options where the watch actually told what time it was (as opposed to the position of the planets, whether or not it was raining, or when his mother-in-law would be arriving for dinner). It had only cost him 6 sickles (which Tonks had mentioned was the equivalent of about £30), so it was nothing fancy. Even so, he was fascinated with the alarm that was built in to it as it had a tiny little cuckoo bird that popped out from somewhere whenever the alarm went off.

Seeing that it was only about half an hour before he usually got up, he decided to forgo any more sleep. Even though it was a weekend, he knew that it was pointless to go back to sleep now, only to wake up again shortly.

He couldn't remember the last time that he had slept late and had to wonder if his body would even know how to do so. It was another of the things that he was adding to a new list which he had named "Dursleyism's". He had started this list because, after spending nearly two months around people that actually seemed to accept him, he was beginning to realise that there was something decidedly odd about how the Dursleys had raised him.

Harry finished his usual morning bathroom routine reasonably quickly and soon found that he still had nearly half an hour before they would begin serving breakfast. Not sure what he should do while he waited, he cast his eyes aimlessly around the room and was just about to start pulling out some homework when he spied the box which his father had left him for his birthday; he still hadn't looked at that book yet. Figuring that now was a good enough time, he picked it up and moved out to the common room where he wouldn't risk waking anyone.

After finding himself a comfortable seat near the ever-burning fire, he opened the book and discovered couple of pieces of parchment that promptly fell to the floor. Picking them up, he was curious to see what looked to be a letter.

. _ .

_Hey Champ,_

_Well, if you're reading this then I guess it means that I haven't been able to pass these on in person. I guess it also means that your mother was right (which I guess that I really should expect by now)._

_Harry, there's so much that I want to say in this short letter, to let you know what you mean to me and to explain the fantastic changes you have brought into my life. I wish I could be there for you, to see you ride your first real broom, cast your first spell, prank your first enemy... I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like for you to go though all this without me by you side, like your grandfather was there by my side._

_Ugh, listen to me, I'm starting to sound like your mother when she's pregnant! It was actually her idea, by the way, to put this little package together. 'Something so he'll know who we were,' she had said. However, after thinking about it for a while, I find that I have to agree with her._

_You see, the war's not going at all well, Harry, and there's even talk of a possible surrender in the near future. More and more people are vanishing (or simply turning up dead), and it seems that every day I hear about another of my fellow aurors that has fallen to the Death Eaters. I don't like the thought of dying at all but, if worst comes to worst, I would hate to see you slip through the cracks of the system, or not have a little something to remember us by. Heck, I've even started writing out my first will! (Something that your godfather has been giving me a right good ribbing about.)_

_Okay, now that that seriousness is out of my system, I present you with the contents of this box. Just make sure you don't tell you mother what I left for you or she's likely to resurrect me just so that she can kill me again! Hmm, now that I think about it, I'll have to come up with a way to prevent her from finding out what's in here..._

_Anyway, there two items in here which are things that would most likely be confiscated by certain people, instead of being passed on to you (You know, some people really do need to get out more often and get themselves la- um.. yeah, they should get out more often)._

_To begin with, the first item is the only real heirloom of any sort that my family possesses: my great-great-grandfather's invisibility cloak. It was procured by the very first Potter to be ever be born magical here in the U.K. and has been passed down from eldest child to eldest child ever since. That means that you are now the sixth owner of what has to be one of the most useful tools that any Hogwarts student could be in possession of... especially when you get a bit older. Actually, now that I think about it, I think that may be the only beneficial thing of me not being there as you read this... at least I don't have to sit though _that _particular conversation again!_

_Now, remember to take care of it, because it is old. But, for Merlin's sake, use it! Have some fun, find a girl or something. (Actually, perhaps the girl should wait a until you're a few years older...) But my order still stands: Have Fun._

_The second item that's going in the box is a little something that I started putting together when I was twelve. You may wish to get your godfather to explain the mechanics of it (bless his flea-ridden backside for giving me the idea in the first place), but I am actually the first Potter to be considered to be legally pure-blooded. I learned, from Sirius, that each pure-blood family has a grimoire; a book where all their secret family magic and history was kept. Being the adventurous youth that I was, I decided to create one for the Potter family. I quickly ran into one major problem though... I didn't have anything to write in it!_

_In the end, the book ended up being where I recorded much of my, um, 'private' research into various aspects of magic. Feel free to add to it as you wish; it is yours now, after all. Oh! You may wish to check out this one particular section about cushioning charms (I'll mark it for you because it really is good to know). I learned from another of my friends (a man by the name of Remus Lupin) that many animals (and a number of people) can still pick up the vibrations that come through the floor. Learn from your old man's mistakes, Harry, silencing charms won't stop that. Having your enemy know where you are is not a good thing. Especially when your trying to hide from your enemies..._

_Damn._

_Dammit, I really wish that you never get to read this letter, Harry._

_You have only been in this world for a little over one year now and already I can't stand the thought of not being there with you. If for some Merlin-cursed reason you are reading this then know this, for it is the truth: You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me and no matter where I am, or where you are, know I will always love you and I am missing you greatly._

_If your mother is still there, Harry, then please look after her for me._

_This is Mr Prongs, for what I hope won't be the last time._

_James "Prongs" Potter._

. _ .

Harry reread the letter a number of times, and not even realising (after his third read) that Sirius Black was his godfather could subtract from one overwhelming fact: his father really loved him. Sure, his Mother had written similar words, but coming from his father they felt much more important. After all, not once had he heard Uncle Vernon admit to loving Dudley. It just made the whole thing fell much more special.

Lost in thought, Harry eventually ended up idly paging though his father's book, never really noticing the other students getting up and going for breakfast, or returning from breakfast. It was only when someone approached him that he noticed any signs of activity.

"You okay, Harry?" asked a soft, slightly accented voice.

Startled, Harry turned to find Megan Jones taking a seat next to him.

"Yeah," Harry croaked slightly before clearing his throat and trying again. "Yeah, I was just... just reading a letter that my dad left me."

For the life of him, Harry wasn't sure why he had just told her that. In the past, such a comment would likely become a prelude for him having to outrun Dudley and Co. again. Perhaps that was why, he pondered; for once he actually had sort-of friends that he could talk to like this.

"Oh," Megan whispered as she quickly looked for something else to say. After an awkward pause, she continued. "It must be hard, what with the anniversary and everything."

Harry looked at her inquisitively. "Anniversary?"

Megan gave him a funny look before explaining herself. "Yeah, the anniversary. You know... of when your mum defeated You-Know-Who. It's this Thursday, remember."

For the first time, Harry realised that nobody had actually told him _when_ his parents had died. Thinking for a moment, it didn't take him long to work out what day it was that coming Thursday. After all, the first-years had all been told tales off the legendary Hogwarts Halloween feasts. Suddenly, the upcoming festivities didn't sound quite so festive any more. In fact, they sounded down-right depressing.

Glancing down at his watch, Harry rose from his seat when he saw what the time was. "Uh, I'd better go and get some breakfast before it finishes," he mumbled before quickly disappearing into the now lively common room.

Megan sat and watched as Harry effortlessly blended into the crowd with a skill that she could appreciate. She was concerned for her friend as she thought that any good Hufflepuff would be, but her instincts were saying that there was something else going on with him and that it had something to do with that letter.

She smiled wistfully to herself for a bit. There had been a time, many years ago, when she would have done _anything_ for something like that from her father. Her smile quickly became a frown when her thoughts caught up with themselves. His father had died ten years ago, why was he just getting the letter now?

~oOo~

The days leading up to Halloween had proved to be difficult for Harry, as he began thinking more and more about what the magical holiday now meant for him. Many of Harry's professors noticed this but few actually realised why. Those that did did what they could to draw attention away from him. Professor McGonagall even went to the extend of offering to talk with him about it if he wished; he didn't wish it though. However, as with most things, there is always an exception of some type. Professor Snape, with his normally abrasive personality, became particularly difficult to be around as it got closer to the magical day of festivities.

Many of those that called Harry a friend had each noticed, in their own way, that Harry seemed to revert back to how he had been when he had first arrived at Hogwarts. Tonks had noticed it the most, and she also worked out why he was acting like this. She had even written to her mother for advice when she realised that she was completely out of her depth in this matter. Her dorm-mates hadn't been any help at all, of course, as they were still poking fun at the fact that she had almost been caught in a boy's dorm room, alone with said boy. It didn't seem to matter to them that he was only a firstie, just that Tonks refused to say how she had hidden from their head of house.

Eventually, it all came to a climax on All Hallow's Eve.

~oOo~

Harry had been feeling miserable all day.

When he had woken that morning, he had thought that was going to be sick. Thankfully, it had just turned out to be Zach's smelly shoes causing that. Whomever it was the stopped the smell each night had obviously forgotten about them that night.

As the day wore on, more and more of the student body of Hogwarts found themselves engaging in excited chatter about the festivities that were going to be held that night. Because of that, Harry began closing himself off even more, to the point where he was even having trouble concentrating in cla-

"Pay attention, Harry!" someone hissed at him from his left.

Startled from his thoughts, Harry turned towards the source of the hiss to see the glaring eyes of the bushy-haired Gryffindor that he had been paired up with. He gave her a scowl turning his attention back to the diminutive Charms Professor.

Harry often tried to avoid Hermione Granger, as she was beginning to remind him too much of Aunt Petunia, who demanded that everything be perfect (and she was especially difficult when Hedwig joined him in class). Unfortunately, he had been the last to show up to class today, after having being waylaid by Tonks and her ever-growing theories about why Fluffy was being kept in the castle. When it came to Charms class, being last to arrive usually meant getting paired up with bossy, nosey, hissing, encyclopaedia regurgitating, by-the-book Hermione Granger.

At the moment, Professor Flitwick was busily handing out the feathers that they would be using in the practical portion of today's lesson. He wasn't exactly sure why the professor chose to hand them out by hand but, then again, Harry had noticed that Professor Flitwick (unlike the many of the other professors) was rather energetic for a short, old person and seemed to enjoy doing things without magic.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practising!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, as he climbed back on top of his pile of books. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important too. Never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It didn't take long for Hermione to get the spell working correctly and earn Gryffindor another ten points with her floating feather. This was something that Harry had been dreading because it usually meant that she would turn her attention towards her partner and effort to 'help'. Harry almost let out a sigh of relief when he noticed her turn the other way, towards the table on her other side, where a ginger-haired boy (whose personality reminded him a lot of Piers Polkiss), was giving a rather good imitation of a windmill.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" the Weasley boy all but shouted.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione interrupt. "It's Wing-_gar_-dium Levi-_o_-sa. Make the 'gar' nice and long."

"There's nothing wrong with how I'm saying it!" hissed the boy before he tried again.

"And _be careful_. If you keep waving your arm around like that, then your going to poke Neville in the eye."

Harry found himself in a bit of a quandary as he got his feather to float a few inches above the desk. Even he could tell that Weasley was doing it wrong. But if the boy really was anything like Piers, then offering his own support to Hermione's argument would likely end up being rather bad for Harry. Then again, siding with Weasley would mean earning even more foul temper from Hermione. In the end, he opted for the solution that many eleven year-old boys would take: he kept quiet.

The situation between Hermione and Ron Weasley didn't improve much after that. By the end of the lesson, Harry had to admit that it became about as bad as it could get. When the lesson was over and he was following the other Hufflepuffs out of the classroom, he couldn't help but overhear the boy's scathing comment about Hermione not having any friends. It was a comment that brought Harry to a standing halt when he realised how he had been treating her. He knew all to well what it was like to not have any friends, and here he was acting just like one of Dudley's gang.

Harry started to turn towards where he had last seen Hermione only to be knocked aside when a mass of brown, bushy hair rushed past him. Judging by the slight sob he had heard, he figured that it was safe to say that Weasley's comment had been accurate. Not knowing what to do now, he quietly followed his class-mates back to the common room while a sharp flame of guilt burned within him.

~oOo~

Even though his heart wasn't truly in it, Harry couldn't help but feel a little bit awed at the feast that had been prepared for Halloween. The food was great, the decorations delightful and the entertainment was good. Okay, so maybe having Draco Malfoy jumping around screaming with a bat hanging onto his hair hadn't been part of the official entertainment, but that didn't stop many of the first-year Hufflepuffs from declaring it to be the best part of the dinner show.

As the merriment continued on into the night, Harry found himself staring at the jug of disgusting pumpkin juice that someone had insisted upon placing before him. He had been staring at it ever since the headmaster had spoken a few words about how his mother had died protecting the magical world. He was also beginning to feel queasy again. He wasn't sure if it was the amount of sugary food that he had consumed tonight, or the fact that he could somehow clearly smell Zach's shoes from two seats down the table. Either way, it wasn't doing his stomach any good.

"Harry, no matter how hard you stare at it, it wont change into anything else."

Looking up, he saw Hannah looking at him with laughter in her eyes. The particular topic of what could be called proper fruit juice had turned into a bit of a running argument between them and had been going on for the past few weeks. Harry opened his mouth to retort but soon changed his mind when that uneasy feeling spiked and his gut gave a sudden lurch. Thinking that maybe some fresh air would help him, Harry started standing up.

"Uh... I think I'll... well... you know, ate a bit too much." he mumbled quickly before walking towards the doors of the Great Hall. Such was the intensity of the building queasiness that he didn't pause to contemplate the pitiful excuse he had just given her.

Hannah watched in confused concern as Harry walked out the door. She had noticed that he had been acting rather depressed for the past few days. The fact that he had just mumbled out a rather blatant lie in order to excuse himself from the feast concerned her greatly; Harry had hardly eaten a single thing all night. She was about to go after him when a voice from her side stopped her.

"Give him some space, Hannah."

"Huh? What's going on?" she asked as she faced her room-mate.

"You _do_ know what day it is, don't you?" asked Megan quietly.

Hannah blinked. "Um, well gee, judging by the decorations I would have to guess that it was... oh, I don't know... _Halloween_ maybe? Of course I know what day it is, you ninny!"

Megan grimaced slightly before continuing. "So what happened ten years ago, at Halloween?"

Hannah sat there confused for a moment before realisation dawned on her. "Oh, Merlin," she breathed. "I never thought of it that way."

"I don't think anyone did, not even Harry," Megan replied morosely.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't think he actually knew _when_ they died, exactly."

"How could he not know? I mean, they're his parents, Megan, and even if he didn't know, why is he acting like that?"

Hannah watched as he room-mate squirmed in her seat for a bit before relenting.

"Well, you see... I kinda -"

She didn't get to finish her sentence as at that moment the doors to the Great Hall crashed open and a very dishevelled looking Defence Against the Dark Arts professor can running down between the middle two tables.

"TROOOLLLL!" Quirrell screamed in a pitifully shrill voice, "Troll! In the dungeons!"

He came to a stop just before the Headmaster and said something that was too quiet for Hannah to hear before promptly falling to the ground in a dead faint. As though his fainting had been an unknown signal, the entire hall erupted in pandemonium.

There was a _troll_ in the school.

"QUIET!" bellowed the Headmaster.

~oOo~

After Harry had left the hall, he found himself wandering around the ground floor of the castle, looking sightlessly at the various pieces artwork as he tried to ease the horrible feeling in his gut. It didn't work, as that unique smell that came from Zach's shoes seemed to be following him, and soon the feeling that he was going to be sick spiked to its highest peak. Rather than risk embarrassing himself in the middle of the hallway, Harry rapidly made his way to the nearest boys' lavatory.

Upon closing the door behind him and moving to the nearest sink, Harry stood silently as he waited on his stomach. After a moment, he couldn't resist letting out a rueful chuckle. He had been so concerned about not vomiting in the hallway and now that he was within range of something he could safely throw up in, he wasn't feeling one single bit queasy.

"You're being stupid," he told his reflection as he looked up.

Deciding that it would probably be best to just turn in early, he headed back to the door and was about to open it when he heard something.

_Thump... Thump... Thump..._

Curious, Harry exited the loo and turned right, heading towards the source of the noise. It didn't take long for Harry to also notice the most disgusting smell that he had ever come across (one that made Zach's shoes smell like daisies). Turning a corner, Harry froze when he saw an enormous, grey creature standing not more than ten feet in front him. The thumping sound, Harry realised, had been the sound of the creature's large feet as it walked down the hall.

It looked to Harry like the creature had been expecting to see him just as much as Harry had been expecting to see it, as it too was standing there staring at him. It was the creature that moved first though. Leaning forward, it let out a loud bellow before stepping towards him.

Startled, both by the bellow and the god-awful stench that came from the creature's breath, a wide-eyed Harry stumbled backwards and tripped on his own feet when he tried to back around the corner. Spinning around whilst still on the floor, Harry scrambled back up again and took off at a run, the increasing _Thump... Thump. Thump, Thump_ _Thump _of the unknown, smelly creature right behind him.

As he rounded another corner, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how fast it was moving. Here he was running as fast as he could and the creature sounded like it was catching up with him. An almighty crash from behind caused Harry to finally turn around, and he almost laughed at the sight of seeing the creature tangled up in a suit of armour. It seemed that the creature wasn't very good at turning quickly. Either that, or the suit of armour had jumped out and grabbed it, which he thought to be highly unlikely (even with magic).

Seeing how clumsy the thing obviously was, allowed for Harry to come up with a plan of sorts. If he could draw it to the main stairs then there would be no way that it could traverse them, especially with the size of its feet. Hopefully, the creature would fall over, giving him time to seek safety.

Another large bellow from the creature brought to light that one shouldn't think too hard while running, as he realised that he had slowed down. Speeding up again, he pushed his legs as hard as he could until an almighty pain raked along the top of his right foot. The next thing he knew, he was falling, face first, towards the floor with a startled yelp.

Feeling slightly dazed from where his head had impacted upon the floor, Harry turned as best as he could to look at what he had tripped on. All he was able to see was his right shoe, sitting calmly upon a flagstone that was two feet from where his feet were. He stared at it in confusion, one thought overriding all others: why was his shoe sitting over there and not on his foot where it was supposed to be?

Hearing his name being called out, Harry was about to call for help when he felt a crushing pressure around his left leg as he was picked picked up off the ground by one of the creature's large hands. Harry let out a scream of pain when he felt the bones is his leg shatter, only for the creature responded with a bellow of its own, right into Harry's face.

At that moment, he wasn't sure which was worse: the thought of getting killed by this... _thing_ and fulfilling Dudley's desire of never having to grace Privet Drive again, or the fact that it's breath smelt much, much worse than the rest of it. Luckily for Harry, he didn't have to consider this for long as the creature let out another bellow and flung him forcefully towards one of the walls.

The last thought before Harry blacked out from the pain was that the creature's bellow had the most unusual echo to it.

~oOo~

Nymphadora Tonks was _not_ panicking. No, Nymphadora Tonks was... _concerned_, just _very _concerned.

Hufflepuff House had been instructed, along with the other students, to return to their dormitories. That naturally meant that there was currently a group of about three hundred Slytherin and Hufflepuff students moving in a rather disorganised fashion towards the lower levels of Hogwarts. Actually, it was more like a group of about two hundred and ninety-nine students as Nymphadora Tonks was rapidly beginning to realise that they may be one particular student short...

"Where were they?" she grumbled to herself as she weaved between a group of her fellow 'Puffs.

If she hadn't been so... er, _concerned_ about the potentially missing student then she may have noticed that, for once, she was able to duck and weave between the people of a large crowd without running int-

"Omph"

"Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry," she called over her shoulder as she rushed past the young Slytherin she had nearly knocked over. She had just spotted what looked to be the first-year 'Puffs. Finally able to get a good look at the group, she quickened her pace when she saw who was present; or rather, who wasn't.

"Have any of you seen Harry anywhere?" she asked rapidly, causing one of the the younger girls to let out a startled squeal.

"No fooling around back there!" called a voice she didn't recognise, but she assumed was one of the Slytherin prefects. Thankfully they would be splitting off from them shortly (she really didn't like the way some of the older Slytherins had been looking at her).

She turned toward the startled firstie... Helen? No, Hannah! "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, but have _any_ of you seen Harry anywhere?"

Hannah hadn't seen Harry. In fact, she hadn't been seeing much of anything since they had left the Great Hall. Instead, she had been treated to her own personal horror show of old memories and long forgotten dreams. She had never seen a troll before, but she had seen the results of a troll attack when she was only seven; her father had needed to spend a week in St Mungo's after it. Ever since then, trolls had been one of the things that she truly feared.

Hannah turned her head towards the girl that had startled her and was sure that she had met her before but just couldn't put a name to the face at the moment. The girl's very pale skin and long pony-tail of platinum-white hair didn't look like it was something one could easily forget. While she was trying to dig though her memory for a name, her class-mates around her all replied in the negative, except one.

"He left the feast just before Quirrell came in," supplied Megan in a mortified voice, causing Hannah to stop walking as her blood chilled in her veins.

Now she remembered, Harry had left for some reason, claiming that he ate a bit too much. Perhaps he went to... but that meant... "He doesn't know about the Troll!" Hannah exclaimed before she spun around and started running back the way they had just come.

It took a second before she realised what it was the first-year had said, but when she did, Tonks took off after her. One thought running thought her head, "Mum's going to kill me!"

As luck would have it, the students at the back of the large group appeared to be only Slytherins, whom really couldn't care less about a pair of Hufflepuffs that were running in the wrong direction. If they had been Hufflepuffs (or worse, Hufflepuff Prefects), then Tonks was sure that they would have never gotten away from the main group.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably not even a minute, Tonks finally caught up with the girl as they climbed one last staircase, rounded a corner and ran, smack-bang, into a large, furry wall.

"Careful there, yer not suppose' ter be runnin' in the... Oy! What're yeh still doin' 'ere. Yer suppose' ter be headin' for yer common room!"

"Hagrid!" gasped Tonks, "Harry... troll..."

"Mr Hagrid!" interrupted Hannah, surprisingly clearly, which made Tonks think that she really needed to do something about her fitness. "Harry left the hall earlier, to go for a walk. He doesn't know about troll."

"Harry?" mumbled Hagrid as he glanced from one girl to the other for a moment, before his eyes widened a fraction. "_Harry?_"

Just then, a loud crash was heard from somewhere to their left, closely followed by a rather large roar which could have only have come from the troll.

"Get back ter yer common room! Now!" Hagrid barked as he made his way towards the noise, drawing up a very large cross-bow in the process.

Tonks glanced at the young girl next to her and (when she saw the look of utter terror that was in her eyes) was about to suggest that she do what Hagrid had said when sequence of noises caught her attention. The first noise caused her to stop moving; it sounded like a young boy letting out a startled cry. The second made her blood freeze; it was a cry of pain that was shortly followed by a third noise; the combined roar of both the troll and Hagrid.

"PUT HIM DOWN!" Hagrid's voice ordered, causing Tonks' heart to skip a beat before she turned on the spot and took off after Hagrid.

She turned the corner just in time to see Hagrid run down a side-corridor, his footsteps causing the very floor to vibrate. Drawing her wand, she did her best to remember what she had just been taught about stopping a mountain troll. She need not have worried about her wand though, as when she reached the side-corridor she saw a sight she never would have expected to see during her time at Hogwarts.

Hagrid had obviously decided that a crossbow wouldn't be much use against a troll (a thought that Tonks wholly agree with) as he had discarded it partway down the hall and apparently then proceeded to tackle the fully-grown mountain troll to the ground. She stood there, wand outstretched in her limp hand as she watched, mesmerised by the most unusual wrestling match that she had ever seen. She had heard the rumours that Hagrid would wrestle trolls, but seeing it take place was a completely different matter. The sheer strength that the Hogwarts groundskeeper possessed was simply phenomenal.

As the two combatants rolled over one more time, she finally noticed a bundle of black cloth lying awkwardly by one of the walls.

"Harry?" she whispered before bolting toward the bundle and calling out to it. "Harry! Are you Okaargh!"

With what was quickly becoming a very annoying standard for her, Tonks tripped when she placed her foot upon some uneven ground. Dropping her wand and throwing out her hands out in a reflexive move, she thankfully stopped herself from hitting her head on the ground, but ended up with a jarring pain going though her wrists and up her arms.

"What the hell?" she mumbled. She looked back up in time to see Hagrid slam the troll's head towards the floor with rather a sickening crunch. Taking that as her queue, she made to stand up, only to let out a yelp of pain when she found her hands firmly stuck to the floor.

"And what is your problem, besides you're usual clumsiness?" snapped a voice from Harry's direction. Turning her head, she spotted the school's resident potions master hunched over Harry's body. That was odd, she thought, where had he come from?

"My hands are stuck to the floor."

Snape paused in his wand-work and turned to regard her curiously for a moment, before turning his gaze towards the floor behind her. Tonks follow his gaze and noticed for the first time that a large chunk of stone was missing from the floor. Looking around, she saw said chunk adhered to the sole of one of Hagrid's shoes (which Hagrid was currently trying to pull off). She also noticed what looked to be one of Harry's shoes sitting further down the corridor.

Snape narrowed his eyes and let out a contemplative hum before Tonks saw him cast a silent spell on the floor. Seconds later, patches of the floor began to glow with a faint pink light; including the spot where Tonks' hands were stuck.

"Just as I thought. Someone will be along with with some solvent. Once you are free, report to the Hospital Wing."

Tonks winced slightly as Snape rose from the ground. She wasn't worried about having to explain her actions to the professors, but trouble like this would likely mean a letter home, which would mean having to explain to her mother. That was not going to be good.

"Oh, and Miss Tonks," Snape said with a smirk. "Thirty points from Hufflepuff for ignoring the Headmaster's instructions. Thirty points _each_."

Tonks watched incredulously as he limped away, floating Harry beside him on what looked to be a conjured stretcher. In the end, she could only shake her head at his usual unfairness. Though, she did wonder why the professor was limping. She was sure that he hadn't been limping during Potions that afternoon.

Not knowing how long she was going to have to wait, she made herself as comfortable as possible and watched as Hagrid pulled one of the troll's arms over his shoulder and start dragging it towards the main entrance.

~oOo~

Harry awoke to a piercing headache. While some would say this was a bad thing, Harry considered this to very good, given his last memories because it meant that at least he wasn't dead. Unless, of course, this was Hell.

He tentatively opened his eyes, only to shut them again with a groan. Who's bright idea had it been to turn on the sun? He didn't get to keep them closed for long as a sudden loud voice had them wide open again when it reverberated through his skull.

"Harry, you're awake! Wait right there, I'll get Madam Pomfrey."

It took Harry a second to recognise whom the voice belonged to, and was just about to ask Tonks to keep the volume down when a bundle of feathers landed on his chest and began barking angrily. Harry lay there, stunned, as he watched Hedwig act out so of character. Of course he had no way of realising the panic that Hedwig had been in since she had been told by the night-watch that he had been attacked.

He went to give her feathers a stroke (hoping to calm her down), when he realised something most disconcerting... he couldn't move!

A chuckling sound from the foot of his bed broke though his rising panic. "That bird hasn't let you out of her sight since last night," said the school's resident healer.

"Why can't I move?" Harry croaked, unsure as to why his throat felt like he had been drinking acid. It seemed to be the right thing to ask, as it caused Hedwig to freeze in mid-rant (even if it did cause another bout of panic to shoot through his chest).

"Don't worry, Harry, I had to put you under a paralysis charm because of you injuries. Hopefully we can remove it now. We'll need your owl to get off of you, though," she added with a slight glare towards the bird.

By the time Hedwig had been convinced to move, Poppy was already at the head of Harry's bed and he could see her moving her wand around silently. After a few moments of contemplative silence, she waved her wand again and a ghostly image rose up out of his body. Harry gasped in shock when he realised he was staring at the back of a ghostly representation of his own skeleton.

"That is _so_ _cool_," Tonks whispered from the foot of his bed.

"Nymphadora!" Poppy barked as she rounded on the girl. Harry would have jumped if he could move, after all she was standing rather close to his ear. "I told you to wait _outside_ the curtain!"

"Sorry, Ma'am."

Harry could even hear the cringe in her voice.

"That girl," the healer muttered, with a shake of her head. "Now then, where was I?"

She spent a few moments using her wand to poke and prod the various parts of the ghostly skeleton before finally vanishing it with a swipe of her arm. Following that, she pointed her wand straight as him and Harry felt a cold draft blow across his chest. He watched curiously as Poppy nodded in satisfaction as she looked at his chest, before another jab of her wand replaced his pyjama top.

"Well, the good news is that we can take that paralysis charm off of you," which she did before Harry could comment. "The bad news is that you're going to have to stay here for another few days so that I can keep an eye on you."

She pulled a small vial out of her pocket and handed it to him. "Here, drink this, it will help with that headache you have."

Harry wasn't sure how she knew that he had a headache, but he suspected magic. He took the proffered vial, sat up slightly and downed the liquid only to gag when he noticed how horrible it tasted. It was worse than pumpkin juice.

"Well, that's what you can expect if you go looking for trolls," Poppy scolded, earning herself a bark of agreement from Hedwig.

"But I didn't... go looking..." Harry spluttered between coughs, before finally getting them under control. Something she had just said finally clicked into place and he turned to her with a incredulous expression. "That _thing_ was a troll?" He had thought that trolls were small furry things that lived under bridges.

"Yes, and how a troll got into this school, I have no idea," she said in frustration. "For that matter, why weren't you at the feast with everyone else?"

Harry looked down nervously for a moment before mumbling something.

"Come now, child, speak up."

"I wasn't feeling well."

Harry chanced a glance up at the healer and was surprised to see a look of frustration on her face. "Then you should have come and seen me earlier," she said with a huff. "Oh well, you're here now."

They were silent for a moment before Poppy set out a small chuckle.

"You know, the first time I met you mother, she was in a hospital bed no too dissimilar from this one." Harry looked at her curiously. "Oh, it wasn't here of course, I mean I didn't even start working here until after you were born. No, I met you mother when I was still working at St. Mungo's."

"Where?"

"St. Mungo's. It's the magical hospital in London. It's where witches and wizards in Britain go when they need medical attention." Harry nodded slightly while the healer sat down in a chair before continuing. "As I remember it, you mother had actually made an appointment to see me that very same afternoon. I was working the maternity ward back then, you see, so one of my tasks was to verify pregnancies.

"I was most surprised to find myself called down to the emergency department later in the morning to find you mother holding the staff at wand point, demanding that someone from the my department look over you first," here Pomfrey let out another chuckle, "I must say it was quite the pleasing sight to see some of those healers finally put in their place.

"Er, were was I? Oh yes. Apparently your mother had been out Christmas shopping with one of her friends when she was attacked by some crazy old man. Luckily, he had only managed to cast one spell on her before he disappeared. She didn't really get a good look at him, but she did say that he looked most peculiar and had a..." Poppy paused for a moment as a sudden thought struck her. "He had a snowy owl upon his shoulder."

Poppy cast a curious look at Hedwig, whom was perched on the railing at the head of the bed. For a moment she could have have sworn that the bird was urging her to continue. Shaking her head at the oddness of the thought, she continued anyway.

"Anyway, nobody ever did manage find out what that spell was but, thankfully, there were no lasting affects for either of you. From that moment onwards, though, I knew that you mother would always put your safety before hers, that she would-"

A soft snore broke Poppy from her story and she looked over to see that Harry had fallen asleep, the slightest hint of a smile gracing his face. She stood slowed and gave the sleeping boy as sad smile.

"I knew that she would rather give her life than to see you hurt," she whispered. She hurriedly swiped a lone tear from her cheek at the memory of having to pull an unconscious toddler out from beneath the broken body of his mother.

She was about to leave Harry's beside to deal with a certain young metamorphmagus when a certain memory stopped her in her tracks. Turning back to the head of Harry's bed, she narrowed her eyes at Hedwig and pondered, once more, that fateful night. There had been dead birds in the ruined nursery where she had found Harry.

Snorting to herself, she turned and raised her wand to clear back the privacy curtains. "I really need to lay off those conspiracy novels," she muttered to herself.

~oOo~

Hedwig watched the fledgling as he slept.

Poor young Twoo-twick had been beside herself for not being able to do anything about last night. Hedwig and the others had seen the foul creature that had attacked the fledgeling and they had all tried to reassure her, but the youngest of the parliament was correct in one thing: with something this serious, the elders would need to be informed. Hedwig wasn't looking forward to that particular report.

Though, even in the face of near disaster, a bright lining could be found. Not once had they heard of that fateful day from the perspective of the bald magic users and it had been intriguing to listen to the healer's memories as it was a new insight into a story that every watcher was familiar with. They knew about that day and the pledge that was made, it was the reason why they did what they did, after all, and Hedwig felt pride in knowing that it was her grandmother that had been the first.

There was one thing that confused her, however, and she pondered that now while the fledgeling rested. Why would the healer think that the Lord of Flight attacked the fledgeling's mother?

~oOo~

Harry awoke later that evening to the sound of quiet chatter. Looking to his right, he saw Justin and Susan sitting next to his bed quietly discussing something that they were reading from their charms book.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked, causing the two to jump in their seats.

"Good God, Harry! Warn someone when you're going to do that," Justin complained.

Harry just chuckled for a moment before stopping and raising his hand to his throat. It no longer felt burnt.

"How are you feeling?" asked Susan, her voice full of concern as she watched him rub at his throat.

"Surprisingly good, actually. What time is it?"

"Dinner time, the others are getting something to eat at the moment," Justin supplied off-handedly.

Harry was stunned, his... friends?... were willing to sit here with him, waiting for him to wake up.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" Susan asked again, "I mean, the whole school seems to know about it. Professor Sprout was absolutely furious at them for doing it. She even gave them detention, every other day until Christmas."

Harry looked to Susan in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

Susan blinked at him. "The prank."

Thankfully, Justin came to Harry's rescue and filled him in on what he had missed. "Turns out that those identical twins in Gryffindor had put some sort of magical super-glue at random spots all down that particular corridor. Last night wasn't a good night for Gryffindor's point count," he chuckled, "what with Longbottom getting caught in the girl's loo and all."

"Best anyone can tell is that you got stuck on one of the sticky spots when the troll found you," Susan added, "and... well... you know the rest."

The memory of the floor coming up to meet his face made Harry cringe for a moment. He briefly thought that he should mention the fact that he was running away from the troll, but brushed that thought aside as he didn't want to come across as a coward in front of his... his friends. Harry smiled slightly, he couldn't believe that he may actually have friends.

The smile didn't last long before he remembered something else. "Does anyone know what happened to my shoe?"

~oOo~

Poppy smiled as she watched through her office door at the three Hufflepuffs chatting amongst themselves. Hedwig was still perched at the head of his bed and had only left Harry's side for short intervals.

She couldn't help but have noticed how Harry had been acting around the other children. After witnessing the environment that he had grown up in, she had to wonder if Harry had ever really had anyone to talk to like this. She was doing her best to not eavesdrop on their sometimes raised voices, but she couldn't help but overhear one little snippet of conversation.

"... got caught in it?" asked Harry

"Yeh, she got her hands stuck as well and now she's walking around with them all bandaged up. She still won't tell us how she got stuck though," the young Bones girl said.

She heard the other boy give snort before taking up the conversation. "She was all set to go on the war path against them last night. I think the only thing that saved them was the fact that she can't hold her wand at the moment."

"Turns out she didn't have to, though. Apparently, Peeves has some sort of aversion to pranks that almost kill people. He's been pestering them practically non-stop since last night. Just this morning he..."

Poppy lost track of the conversation at that point as the blood slowly drained from her face. Surely he hadn't. It was an utterly ridiculous idea.

The memory of a small post script popped to the forefront of her mind.

_'James says that there is another'_

"Oh, James," Poppy groaned quietly, "please tell me you didn't."

* * *

**A/N:** So there you have it, how Harry... er, _Hagrid_ took care of the troll. You know, I haven't read a single story where the troll won, so I figured that I would throw it a bone and have been slowly working from the start for Harry to take a fall when faced with the troll. Score: Harry 1Bajillion, Troll 1. Has anyone ever had a shoe ripped from their foot? (It _hurts!)_

Yes, I know Harry was rather emo there for a moment with the letter and all, but I honestly believe such a letter would have hit him hard. Take it from a guy, such sentiments from the father outweigh the same from the mother. Call it a guy thing if you will: we would only say it to a kid if we mean it.

Hermione fans: Put down the pitchforks! Harry wasn't feeling in a particularly civilised mood at the time.

Finally, as I mentioned to one reviewer: Hasn't anybody noticed how Peeves is one of the most disliked residents in Hogwarts? He must be getting a bit lonely there, don't you think? Then again, who's to say that I'm not pulling a fast one on you? It wouldn't be the first one.


	12. All I Want for Christmas

**Chapter 11 – All I Want for Christmas...**

_Christmas: Pagan festival turned religious celebration turned commercialised holiday._

_Whichever way you view Christmas, and no matter what religion you follow, you have to admit that Christmas has evolved into a time for celebrating family, friends and loved ones and all the joy and happiness that they bring into our lives. We choose to celebrate it by presenting gifts to those that are important to us, in the tradition of how a god (_The_ god to many) chose to give us his son because of how much he cared for human-kind._

_Even if you don't subscribe to the religious aspect of Christmas, that shouldn't stop you from celebrating. So, put on your reindeer antlers, grab a mug of eggnog and give someone important to you a gift._

~oOo~

The weeks that followed Halloween passed relatively quickly for Harry.

He had been called upon to recount his encounter with the troll twice. For the first instance (which had been for the benefit of both Professors Sprout and Dumbledore) he had been called to the Headmaster's office. Harry found that particular encounter to be rather unnerving as the headmaster had just sat there staring at him the whole time. In fact, the headmaster didn't seem to react to anything that Harry had said. The second recounting had been for a pair of aurors a few days later. It turned out that Susan had mentioned Harry's run-in with the troll in a letter home. Said letter had apparently ended up in the hands of her aunt, whom had then sent two aurors to investigate. Again, this was done within the headmaster's office, but thankfully the headmaster didn't sit there staring at him that time.

Unfortunately, much to Harry's annoyance, one side-effect of being attacked by a troll was the tendency for many people to treat him like he was made of glass. Hedwig it seemed was the worst culprit. Thankfully, his newly discovered friends weren't so bad and they soon began treating him normally again.

One curious thing that occurred happened shortly before Madam Pomfrey released him from the Hospital Wing. Tonks had chosen to take advantage of Hagrid's sullen mood over Harry's injuries, and had asked him about Fluffy's presence in the castle. His response had been rather forceful, if Tonks' description was accurate. Hagrid had forcefully admonished her to stop interfering with things that didn't concern her and then all but frog-marched her back up to the castle whilst muttering about there being too many nosey kids these days. Needless to say, that had only served to raise the level of Tonks' curiosity about the topic. Amongst the young Hufflepuffs, the general consensus was that Hagrid knew what was being guarded and why.

Tonks wasn't the only person to be chastised during this time. Hannah had also been dressed down for her actions, but from her fellow Hufflepuffs rather than the staff. It came down to Megan to rescue her with a rather peculiar description of the four houses of Hogwarts.

"_Well it's like this: There's this really dangerous obstacle that you have to get past. A Ravenclaw would sit down all day and plan out the most convoluted way around the obstacle, only for a Slytherin to convince the Ravenclaw to part with said plan and then get themselves killed when they realise that they can't understand what the Ravenclaw wrote. A Gryffindor, not being one to wait around, would run right in, head-first, and probably wouldn't even last five seconds. Now a Hufflepuff... they would look at the problem and just do what needed to be done. Much like how Hannah did what needed to be done when she found Mr Hagrid and told him that Harry was missing."_

All in all, things settled back down to normal by the end of November. The mysterious person who magically stopped Zach's shoes from smelling even came back (although Harry had to admit that the thought of them still made him feel a bit queasy). Not too long afterwards, the first snow fall of the year occurred and the castle slowly began transforming itself for Christmas. Decorations started appearing and Hagrid was could be seen dragging Christmas tree after Christmas tree around the school.

Professor Sprout had come around the table one breakfast asking if anybody was going to be staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas break. Harry signed up immediately; the thought of experiencing his first real Christmas overrode any fears that his aunt and uncle would be unhappy about it.

Soon enough, Christmas break finally arrived at Hogwarts and Harry found himself merrily handing out gifts to all his new friends before they caught the train back to London. The fact that he could actually give gifts knowing that they wouldn't immediately be thrown away had him smiling the whole time, which in turn had the others smiling as well. He had been unsure what one was supposed to give friends for Christmas, so had needed to make a number guesses when choosing the small items. He wouldn't know for a number of weeks, but he had managed to select gifts that were well received by all. Just as well too, as he ended up spending most of the money that he had left over from his trip to Gringotts.

~oOo~

Christmas Day itself dawned bright and crisp over Hogwarts Castle. The sky was clear, the birds were waking up and there was a fresh, thick layer of snow covering the Scottish highlands surrounding Hogwarts.

When Harry awoke, he found sunlight creeping in through a gap in the heavy dark yellow curtains surrounding his bed. If he had been asked two months ago what he had thought about those curtains, he would have replied that the curtains were good for a bit of privacy, but that he would have much preferred a different colour. However, after experiencing the nasty bite of his first highland winter, he was grateful for the extra warmth that they provided at night.

He lay there for a moment within his warm bed whilst his mind drifted back over the past few months, marvelling at how wonderful his life seemed, now that he was away from Little Whinging (trolls notwithstanding, of course). Even now, he was going to be able to finally participate in the first ever Christmas celebration that he could -

Harry's eyes snapped wide open and he sat bolt upright as a silly grin crept across his face. Today was Christmas! Jumping out of bed, Harry narrowly escaped falling bum-first onto the floor as he spun around to extricate his foot from where it had snagged in a twist in his bed curtains, then raced through to the showers.

Washing up as quickly as he could, Harry got dressed then bounded down the hallway and into the cosy common room, where he came to a crashing halt in the middle of the floor. Looking around for a moment, he gnawed slightly on his lower lip and pondered what he was supposed to do on a Christmas morning. Dudley would rip right into the presents that were sitting underneath the tree in the corner but he had been learning lately that what the Dursley's (and Dudley in particular) would do wasn't necessarily the proper thing.

"Good gods, Potter. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Harry spun around to see Joseph Patterson, the seventh-year prefect, standing there looking like he had just gotten out of bed (which Harry thought was probably because he _had _just gotten out of bed). Mistakenly thinking that he had been asked for the time, Harry glanced at his watch.

"Eight-seventeen," Harry replied before doing a double-take at his watch. "Eight-seventeen! Oh no, I slept-in!" Harry looked up at the older student with a hint of panic in his eyes. It was the first time that he could remember ever sleeping in and it just had to be on Christmas morning. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

Patterson looked at him oddly for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "No, you didn't miss anything, but something tells me that I'd better teach you the fine art of sleeping in, kid. Oh, and Merry Christmas," he added as he stumbled his way around one of the couches whilst trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. As he made his way over the the Christmas tree, he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Well, you coming or what?"

Harry, glad that he hadn't missed anything, followed the prefect over to the tree. They were the only two Hufflepuffs staying at school for Christmas this year, so there weren't as many gifts under it as Harry was used to seeing under the Dursley's tree, but Harry still felt a little giddy at the thought that at least one of those was for him.

"Merry Christmas, Potter," Joseph said again as he passed Harry a gift from the pile.

Between the two of them, they slowly made their way through the presents that had been placed there for them. Harry was shocked at the number that had his name on them. He had never anticipated receiving anything from most of these people, _especially_ the Christmas gift that his aunt had sent him. The card she had sent had been somewhat simple but it was accompanied a small book that told the story of Christmas. Overall, Harry wasn't exactly sure what to make of the surprise gift as it was the first gift he could remember ever receiving from her.

Joseph couldn't help but chuckle to himself at the sight of the giddy first-year. It may have been a long time ago, but he could still remember when he had once felt like that on Christmas morning. Nowadays, he simply preferred getting enough sleep to make it though the NEWT course whilst firmly holding onto his sanity.

He was more than a bit confused about a set of blocks that his muggle-born girlfriend had given him, especially when the note said that they would help him with his Advance Charms class. The young boy next to him had pointed out that it looked like a game that his cousin had. That simple comment had drawn his thoughts towards something that had been bothering him ever since Professor Sprout called the three male prefects to an impromptu meeting: Why wasn't this kid spending Christmas with his family? He would be with his own family himself, if he hadn't drawn the short straw and had to play babysitter.

Looking up from unwrapping a Honeduke's Holiday Pack from his aunt and uncle, he saw Potter put a card back in its envelope and carefully unwrap his next gift. Remembering how the boy had torn into his first few gifts, this one caught Patterson's attention. Perhaps it was from someone of great importance to the lad. He continued to watch, with increasing curiosity, as the boy revealed a book which he slowly opened and stared at for a moment, before running a hand over one of the pages.

"What d'ya have there, Harry?"

"My parents," the boy whispered as he stared at the page, causing the prefect to blink in confusion.

Shuffling over a bit, Joseph looked over the kid's shoulder and saw that the book was actually a fancy-looking photo album. The first page, which the boy was still staring at, showed a magical photo of a young couple (that looked only a few years older than himself), dancing around at what looked to be a wedding. The man in the photo looked like as near-perfect replica of the kid next to him, except for the obvious (such as the fact that the man wore glasses and the kid didn't). The woman's face was obscured, but Joseph couldn't help but admire the red-head's fine... um, _figure_ from behind. When the couple spun around, he finally got a view of her face and he felt his eyes widen and his jaw slacken.

He was so stupid! How could he have not put it all together? It made perfect sense; the right name, the right age, the same eyes that were in all the photos, no family to go home to for Christmas... no. No, that couldn't be right, the kid had mentioned a cousin. The prefects expression darkened slightly. Why was Lily Potter's son wanting to spend Christmas at Hogwarts rather than with what was left of his family?

Eventually, the two lone Hufflepuffs finished unwrapping their gifts and made their way up to the Great Hall for a light breakfast. Patterson had warned Harry not to eat too much because of the feast that they would be having that afternoon. Though it didn't escape Patterson's notice that they young first-year had been acting more or less like a stunned mullet ever since unwrapping that photo album. It was a fact that only served to deepen his darkening mood.

Luckily, a perfect opportunity for revitalising the near-hyper first-year presented itself at breakfast.

~oOo~

Harry had been in a slight daze ever since he had unwrapped the present that he had received from Tonks and her family. In reality, it was the only present that he had actually expected to receive this morning as Tonks had mentioned it to him when she had placed it under the tree.

"Hey! Potter!"

Harry was startled out of his memories by the sharp sound of a set of fingers clicking in front of his eyes.

Turning to his left, he was surprised to see that the seventh-year Hufflepuff had been replaced with a young Gryffindor. The surprise quickly turned into slowly simmering irritation when he recognised one of the two boys that were responsible for landing him in the hospital wing. That incident had been nearly two months ago now, yet there still hadn't been any signs of an apology (a fact that seriously annoyed some of his friends). Harry wasn't overly concerned himself, so long as he didn't have to interact with them too much. All in all, the whole incident had left him more than a bit leery about the idea of pranking people.

"Kids these days. Young whipper-snappers of your age are usually more attentive on Christmas morning, Potter. You haven't even noticed your owl standing there."

Harry turned to where the ginger boy was pointing and saw that Hedwig was indeed standing there on the table, staring at him. Chastising himself silently, Harry reached out to stroke her feathers.

"Sorry, Hedwig. Hey, I have something for you," Harry added as he placed a hand in one of his pockets and pulled out a small package. "Merry Christmas."

Hedwig eyed the package for a moment before looking back up at Harry and wondering what she was supposed to do with it.

At first, Harry wasn't sure if she was just unimpressed with the gift but after a moment of watching his first friend staring at him, he realised her predicament. "Oops, sorry girl," Harry apologised as he reached out to unwrap Hedwig's present. "I hope you like them, I was told that owls love them."

Harry watched as Hedwig eyed the small mound of thumbnail sized objects that gave off a rather tantalising smell, before she picked one up and tentatively swallowed it. She blinked her eyes in surprise, before quickly devouring the rest of the tasty morsels.

"You got your owl owl-treats for Christmas?"

Harry turned to see the Weasley twin looking at him oddly. "Of course, didn't you?"

"Right," the boy replied slowly. Before he could continue though, he was interrupted.

"Is there a reason why you're over here harassing people?" asked a cool voice from behind them.

Harry rolled his eyes slightly at the frustrating thought that there was still at least one person that was wanting to treat him like a glass ornament. The twin merely turned and threw Patterson a dazzling smile.

"Harassing? Why, I wouldn't even dream of such a thing. I'm only here to invite you all to a snowball fight."

Patterson stood there and looked at the Gryffindor with his arms crossed and a scowl upon his face. For a moment Harry had visions of Professor Snape standing over him in potions class and couldn't help but wonder if that was where the prefect had learned such a pose. Patterson slowly raised an eyebrow, further solidifying Harry's theory.

"A snowball fight?"

"Sure, Fred and I figured that there would be just about enough here to have a Gryffindor vs. Everybody match."

The prefect was silent for a moment before a slight glint appeared in his eye. "You know what, that might just be a good idea. We'll meet you out there."

Harry watched as the Gryffindor returned to his own table and then turned towards the prefect. "We?".

"Don't worry kid," Patterson replied with a grin. "After all, revenge is a dish best served _cold_."

~oOo~

An hour later found many of the remaining student population of Hogwarts lobbing snowballs at each other upon the large snow-covered field down by the loch. It was nearly a full turnout: four Weasleys and a single Longbottom on the Gryffindor side, and the two Hufflepuffs and three out of the four remaining Ravenclaws on the other side. Their wands had been left in their dormitories, as per prior agreement.

Joseph couldn't remember the last time he had partaken in a snowball fight, but he had to admit that it was actually rather fun, even if he was the only one there that was older than fifteen. Dodging another errant snowball, he scooped up some more snow and lobbed his hastily formed snowball in retaliation, scoring another direct hit on the eldest Weasley. If there was one thing that Joseph couldn't stand, it was a brown-noser; and he had already had enough of the fifth-year prefect to last a lifetime.

He was broken from his personal victory by a call from one of his Ravenclaw team-mates. "Patterson, behind you!"

Joseph spun around to be greeted by a face full of snow. Hastily wiping the snow from his eyes, he caught sight of two heads of ginger hair darting around, throwing snow at everybody they could find (even their own team-mates on occasion). He narrowed his eyes at the two third-years; this was why he was here... turn _his_ shirts pink, will they.

Crouching down, he took care in forming two near-perfect snowballs. Holding each of them in his palms he closed his eyes and concentrated for a few seconds. Opening them, a sadistic grin formed upon his face while he watched as an icy shell formed around the snowballs, causing them to more closely resemble frozen cannonballs than normal snowballs. Glancing around, he quickly located his targets again and put his quidditch skills to good use by quickly throwing the cannonballs at the twins. The sound of two yelps in the distance only caused his grin to grow.

He didn't see this as cheating per se; more like using all available resources (or so he told himself). After all, they had said 'no wands', not 'no magic'. Being the only one upon the field of battle whom was currently in Professor Flitwick's advanced NEWT charms class (the one class where you were taught to get by _without_ a wand) was one such resource. And, by hook or by crook, Joseph was going to make sure that even their bruises had bruises by the time this war was won.

As he ducked down to scoop up some more snow, a flash of light reflecting off of something caught his attention and he looked up to see the youngest Weasley sneaking up on Potter and about to unload an armful of snowballs. Potter was currently on one knee, forming a few snowballs of his own and didn't see the young Gryffindor approaching. He was about to yell out a warning to the young boy, when Potter's head snapped up.

~oOo~

Harry was having the most fun that he could ever remember; he had never experienced a snowball fight like this before. The only one that he had ever participated in in the past was in Little Whinging after a particularly nasty winter storm. While the other kids seemed to have enjoyed themselves, Harry hadn't liked being the only person on the other team.

After lobbing another snowball in the direction of Neville Longbottom, He knelt down to quickly form a few more snowballs. He was putting the finishing touches on the first one when he heard Patterson call out a warning.

"_Potter! Heads up!"_

Snapping his head up, everything seemed to blur a little when he saw Ron Weasley begin throwing snowball after snowball towards him. Without thinking, Harry began standing and twisted back his right shoulder allowing the first snowball to fly past him. Bringing his shoulder back around, he made a sharp upwards, back-handed flick of his right arm and sent the snowball that was in his hand flying up into the air, where it promptly intercepted the third snowball that Ron had thrown. Before the resulting explosion of snow had even begun to clear, Harry was already bringing his right hand back level with his head, catching Ron's second snowball in the process. Snapping his arm forward again, he threw the caught snowball at Ron with enough force to send the young Gryffindor staggering back a pace.

When reality snapped back into to place, both first-years stood in shock over what had just occurred. It wasn't until a number of seconds later, after Neville had scored a direct hit on the back of Harry's stationary head, that they remembered that they were still in the middle of a snowball fight and quickly returned to the game.

Further down the field, Joseph Patterson was still staring in shock; one thought coursing though his mind: How in the name of the nine hells had the kid done that? The eye-hand coordination on the young first-year was simply unreal... and those throws...

A flicker of a forgotten memory reared its head at that moment. This was the firstie that was a natural on a broomstick... With a glimmer of fanaticism in his eye, Joseph found himself with a small project to keep him busy for the remainder of the year: he had six months to get that kid hooked on quidditch.

~oOo~

The Christmas feast that afternoon was like nothing that Harry had ever imagined. Because there were so few students staying over Christmas, the four long tables had been removed and in their place were two large circular tables; one for the students and the other for the staff. Upon both tables were mounds of Christmas food: plump, roasted turkeys; mountains of roasted vegetables; tureens fair overflowing of buttered peas, carrots and beans; small boats sailing around in a wide bowl of steaming gravy, each one carrying great dollops of cranberry sauce. Also, in the middle of the table, a large pyramid of Christmas Crackers.

To Harry's surprise, these crackers were vastly different from the crackers that he had seen the Dursleys pull. Not only did these crackers let off a bang that closely resembled a small cannon, but they also yielded goodies which seemed much, much better than flimsy paper hats and small plastic toys. In no time at all, Harry found himself decked out in a pirate's hat while he tried to catch a pair of small white mice which had just popped out of the last cracker he had pulled with the fifth-year Ravenclaw he was sitting next to. They looked like they would make a good Christmas dinner for Hedwig (if he could get them past the other owls perched in the owlery that was).

The feasting and merriment continued on until when the sun set, and soon (after eating what he thought to be an impossible amount of food) Harry found himself smiling as he followed a very tipsy-looking giant groundskeeper out of the great hall with pockets that were fair overflowing with goodies from the Christmas crackers. Unfortunately for Hedwig, the mice had managed to evade capture and Harry rather suspected that Mr Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, would be having a rather tasty dinner tonight.

The smile stayed upon his face right up until he went to bed that night. He had taken part in the first real Christmas that he could ever remember and it was _nothing_ like what the Dursleys experienced. This was better. No, this was _much_ better. In fact the only thing that Harry could think of to make it better would be to have his parents enjoy it with him.

The thought of his parents made his smile fade. That hollow feeling that had been there since before Halloween was still present, but it didn't feel as big. With one last look at his new photo album, which he had propped open next to his bed, Harry extinguished the glow-stone and closed his eyes.

Unlike the day that he had just had, Harry's night did not go so well...

~oOo~

Thump, thump..._ Footsteps? _Thump, thump... _His footsteps? _Thump, thump... Thump, thump... _Why did they sound wrong? He can't stop to check though. Why? What was he running from from?_

_What was that? There it was again! Someone was calling him. He turned to see who it was._

_There was Darkness._

Harry awoke with a scream, scrambled out of bed and ran for the door. He quickly reached it only to stop in confusion as he tried to work where he was going and how his wand had ended up in his hand. He was about to head back to bed when his stomach gave him an answer in the form of a very violent lurch. Forgetting about his bed for a moment, Harry raced towards the bathroom and had to lunge for the nearest sink when his stomach rebelled against him and emptied itself of the last of his Christmas dinner.

After cleaning himself up and returning to his room, Harry found himself too shaken up to sleep. That was assuming that he could even lay down as the thought of doing so at the moment seemed to cause his stomach to gurgle once more. Pulling out a book from his trunk (so that he could at least do something while his stomach settled), he was about to close the the lid when he spied the box that held the things his father had left him.

A voice that he didn't quite recognise sounded within his mind: _"Come on, squirt. Just remember not to tell your mother, or you'll get us both in trouble."_

Harry had never knowingly broken any of the school rules thus far, but as he crouched there pondering the strangely familiar voice, he felt an unexpected surge of both anticipation and excitement. Slowly closing the lid, the memory of his father's admonishment to 'have fun' sprung forward, causing him to pause. After a moment of stillness, he impulsively threw the lid wide open...

~oOo~

Many people have often debated the question of whether Albus Dumbledore ever slept. If one could see him this morning pacing in his office at three o'clock in the morning, they would also likely ask themselves the same question.

Currently, Albus Dumbledore, who was recognised as one of the most powerful and most learned wizards in the world, was confused about a memory. Upon his desk were two crystal phials, each containing a small amount of smoky grey substance. Next to these floated a shallow, rune encrusted, stone bowl.

The first of the phials contained one of the most unusual memories that he had ever experienced; this very night, he had caught Peeves staring into the Mirror of Erised. Although 'staring' probably wasn't the right word for it because the poltergeist appeared to have been _glaring_ at it. However, this wasn't what had confused Albus Dumbledore (no matter how much he wished that he could discover what the poltergeist had been looking at), neither was the second memory, which happened to be the only memory that he had expected to obtain this night.

He had taken great pains to be able to get Longbottom to look into the mirror. First he had needed to retrieve the mirror from its hiding spot beneath the school; Fawkes had come in handy there and the lack of students over the Christmas break had been the perfect time to do so. Next he had needed to arrange for Longbottom to spend Christmas in the castle, away from his grandmother. Finally, after arranging for an old auror-issue invisibility cloak that he could pass of as belonging the boy's father, he had needed to set up a sequence of events and compulsions which would led the young Gryffindor to the spare classroom where he had placed the mirror.

In the end, the key to it all had been having to call in a number of favours so that he could arrange for Augusta to be offered the recently vacated position of deputy representative to the ICW. Doing so, she could then be forced to attend the annual Christmas banquet in Italy, in his stead. The fact that she would be the third witch in history to hold such an august position had practically guaranteed that she accepted the offer. While it was true that he would prefer to not have to work with her, he had to admit that her opinionated ideologies may prove be of benefit later when Tom rose to power once more.

Once the boy had reached the room (and after using a judicious amount of legilimency), he had been able to obtain the memory he was after: the boy's deepest desire. The one thing that would be guaranteed to ingratiate himself to the lad. Aiding the boy's parents may not be possible by himself, but there may be a way. He would need to confer with Nicolas on this one.

Now, the third memory from tonight... _that_ was what had him confused. He had been just about to secure the room and return to his office when his trip-wards had alerted him to a third visitor approaching that particular room, one he had never realised was in the possession of an invisibility cloak. He was sorely tempted to have Pomona confiscate it during the school term as while it wasn't against the rules, he didn't like the idea of just anyone being able to sneak around like that. But he realised that if word was to reach the two boys that the other owned such an item, then it could serve to undo all that he was attempting by giving one to Longbottom in the first place, especially when they discovered that one was allowed to hold onto their cloak, when the other wasn't.

Halting his pacing, he turned and jabbed his wand towards the pensieve, causing a ghostly shape emerged from it; one of a young boy standing in front of the Mirror of Erised. Harry Potter: only son of Lily and James Potter, and quickly becoming one of the most troubling children that he had ever come across.

It wasn't that the child misbehaved or anything. In fact, to the best of his knowledge, the child had never broken a single rule until tonight. His academic record was slightly above average, nothing spectacular (which he supposed was to be expected, given that the boy didn't know that much yet), even if Pomona and Filius both sung his praises at every opportunity. He was also one of the few students that could break through the tough exteriors that Poppy and Minerva portrayed. None of that troubled Albus, though. No, what did trouble him was the fact that the boy's mind was closed off, and not in a way that it should have been.

Contrary to what many conspiracy theorists may suggest, Albus didn't actively seek to intrude upon the minds of everyone that he came across (especially with children... and vampires... and werewolves... and, well, any being whose mind was either chaotic or animalistic). But there were times when doing such had been necessary. In young Potter's case, such necessity had already cropped up twice.

The first (and only) time that he had peered into the boy's mind was after he had been attacked by the mountain troll. Albus didn't remember much about that particular conversation because he had attempted to verify the story via legilimency only to end up stuck in an unending void until he was finally able to shake himself free. Normally, when he encountered a mind that had been shielded artificially (or encountered someone schooled in occlumency), he would be able to sense either a barricade of sorts, or a mind that was riddled with countless misdirecting thoughts. Either way, he would sense the presence of a mind. Potter was different; it was as though the boy had no mind at all.

He had only ever heard of this phenomenon in books where the authors wrote of attempting legilimency upon a dying person. Every authors cautioned against it, lest the caster become trapped in the nothingness left behind by a dead mind. The fact that this boy was very much alive and not dead was very troubling to Albus and it was the very reason why he had so far been unable to ascertain just why the boy had reacted the way he did to the mirror.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself for a moment before swiping his wand across the surface of the pensieve, causing the image fall back into it. Once it was clear again, he leaned over the pensieve and allowed himself to once more become immersed within the memory.

Appearing next to his invisible self, he watched as the boy removed his invisibility cloak and walked around the mirror before standing in front of it and staring curiously at his reflection.

"Why would there be a mirror in the middle of a classroom?" the boy asked before he waved a hand in front of it.

Frowning in confusion, the boy looked about himself and then back towards the mirror. He tried waving his hand again and then pulled out his wand and levitated a chair that was behind him. As he turned back to the mirror, the boy blinked in surprise and alternated his gaze between the floating chair, the mirror and himself. Eventually, he lowered the chair back to the floor.

"Must be broken," the boy muttered as he hovered his hand over the surface and slowly moved it around, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on where his reflection would show.

At one point, the boy's fingers brushed the surface of the mirror and Albus thrust his hand in the 'air' and clenched his fist closed, causing the memory to freeze in place. Moving closer, he briefly glanced at the mirror (and once again cursed the fact that the surface of the magical mirror always seemed to appear pitch black in third-person-view memories) before turning towards the boy's face. The boy stood there, frozen along with the memory, with his finger-tips resting upon the surface of the mirror and his mouth slightly open. His eyes though... Albus peered closely and saw again that the boy's eyes appeared to be slightly glazed, almost as though the boy had been drinking.

Releasing the hold on the memory, Albus watched at the boy's eyes slowly cleared only to be quickly replaced with a look of fear. The boy took a step backwards and nearly tripped on his own feet when he snatched up his invisibility cloak and ran from the room.

As Albus returned to reality, he once again pondered just what had happened when the boy had touched the mirror.

~oOo~

For Harry, the remainder of the Christmas break hadn't been anywhere near as enjoyable as the lead-up to Christmas. His discovery of the mirror had led to a number of rather disturbing dreams about blood, fire, rock and death. It also hadn't helped that he had woken up more than a few times with an upset stomach. Remembering Madam Pomfrey chastising him for not seeing her earlier at Halloween, he chose to seek out the healer regarding his early morning vomiting.

~oOo~

Poppy paused with her wand half-raised and had to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing. Even after all these years away from pregnant witches, her first impulse when someone complained of 'morning sickness' was still to test them for pregnancy. Some habits were just to hard to break and naturally that was _not_ going to be the case here.

Taking a quick calming breath, she finished raising her wand and cast a diagnostic charm which had _nothing_ to do with pregnancy. After spending a few moments studying the results, she cancelled the spell with a frown.

"Well there doesn't appear to be anything obvious, Harry. How long have you been having this problem?"

"Um, about a week."

"Hmm, any nausea during the day?"

"Any what?" Harry asked with a perplexed expression.

"Nausea. It means that you feel sick, even if you don't actually vomit"

"Oh. Yeah, sometimes."

"Sometimes? Sometimes a lot, or sometimes a little?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes. Maybe every couple of days?"

Poppy raised an eye-brow as she fixed him with a stern look. "And you never thought to tell anyone?"

"Well... I wasn't actually sick... so..."

"So you thought that you weren't sick," Poppy finished with a roll of her eyes. Sometimes she wondered if some children preferred being ill to being healthy. "Well, it could be an allergy to something that your eating here. How long have you been experiencing the nausea?" she asked as she cast another charm.

"For a few months, I guess."

"A _few_ _months_?" Poppy asked incredulously as she paused in her spellwork. Harry just shrugged his shoulders, causing Poppy to shake her head.

Eventually, she ceased her wand waving and let out a small frustrated huff. "Well it's not an allergy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say... no, no, that can't be it... but then again, it would explain... no that's absurd, I mean you're not..."

Harry watched as Poppy fought with herself over a possible reason for his queasiness. He had to admit that it was a little funny to watch, but it was over much to fast for him to truly appreciate it.

"Harry, you know how to cast a levitation charm, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Right, I want you to levitate this pen for me until I tell you to stop," she said as she placed her fountain pen on the bed beside him.

The boy did as he was told and she cast another, more specialised diagnostic charm. There! Even though she saw it, she didn't believe it. The boy was a _half-blood_ not a muggle-born! Even so, the evidence was right there before her so she reall-

Poppy froze for a moment when she saw something she wasn't expecting. "Harry, I want you to put down the pen and levitate the bed that's behind me."

"_What?_" Harry exclaimed. He had never attempted levitating anything anywhere near that large before.

"Now, now, I'm sure Professor Flitwick has already explained that the size is all in your head. Now, the bed please. Quickly, before my spell wears off."

Harry did as he was told and, on the third attempt, had the bed hovering about two inches above the floor. He held it there for a few seconds before he was told that he could lower it.

Poppy was lost in thought for a few seconds before she gave the boy a smile. "Well the good news is that I know what's making you feel ill and it can be cured with a single potion. Unfortunately the ingredients aren't very common, so I'm going to have arrange for some to be sent here before I can brew it. It shouldn't be more than three or four days though."

"In the mean time," she added as she moved over to one her potions cabinets and pulled out a small vial, "I want you to take a sip of this before you go to bed each night. It will help to settle your stomach. I'll let you know when your potion is ready."

Poppy watched as the boy scrunched his nose slightly at the thought of it, but accepted the antinausea potion anyway, and left the ward. As soon as he had gone, a concerned frown rapidly fell over her face. The boy's ailment had been most unexpected.

About one in every hundred muggle-borns had trouble adapting to the continual channelling of magic that occurred within their bodies, leading to a variety of symptoms such as hormone imbalances and severe nausea, depending on the person. It was one of the reasons why many knowledgeable pure-bloods advocated for not training muggle-borns, or at least for segregating them, claiming that they just couldn't handle using magic. In Poppy's opinion, it was a load of nonsense as every person's body was different and they all reacted to things in slightly different ways.

While rare, this ailment was not new to her and a Chinese-developed potion would easily cure it. What troubled her in Harry's case was that it _only_ affected muggle-borns; never had she heard of it affecting a half-blood like Harry. She did have a theory though, one which involved the unique pattern that her diagnostic spells always seemed to show with Harry. Especially now that the pattern had changed slightly from what she could remember.

Unlike when she had seen him at his relatives' house, she could now clearly remember that the pattern seemed to be unique to Harry (ever since he had been born) and always appeared over the birthmark upon his chest. Every time she had looked at it in the past, it had appeared as a solid globe of fiery orange. Now, whenever the boy was channelling his magic, a fine line of silver appeared upon it, almost like a fracture. The thousand galleon question was: 'what did it mean?'

* * *

**A/N:** Another chapter down and hm-hm to go. So, who's taking the bets as to how this puzzle fits together? I'll like to put down $5 on- oh... I'm the one writing this. Damn, there goes my chance on making some money out of this thing.

Yes, I do know that Harry isn't wearing glasses (I wear them, if it makes you happier). :authors cackles madly: Oh, um, yeah, sorry for that, got lost in plot twists for a moment. As for the scene at the end... I work in a hospital. When one works in a hospital, you learn a thing or two (even if my patients are made of ones and zeros and not flesh and blood). For instance: A defibrillator cannot start a heart... it stops it so that the body can reset it (a fibrillating heart is one that is beating irregularly).

Anyway, today's fan-fiction pet-peeve: wandless magic. Remember, it has officially been said that wandless magic is possible in the Harry Potter universe, it's just that the really good spells need a wand (not that I'm an HP expert... I just did a little research on the subject). In other words, witches and wizards have the ability to focus a certain amount of their magic without the aid of an external focal point.

Now a more serious question... I take it that everyone reading this has seen the HBP movie at some stage? Which do you reckon is better: The stone bowl and pedestal from GoF (which actually reminds me of a baptismal font) or the floating bowl from HBP? And people, HBP stands for Half-Blood Prince, not Half-Baked Plot. The plot for books 6 and 7 are actually grounded in the plots for books 1 and 2. If you don't believe me then read them more carefully.


	13. Some Things are Best Left Forbidden

**A/N:** :Gasp: I'm back! I don't really have an excuse for my absence other than procrastination (though I guess being sick for two weeks straight has to count for something). Anyway, back to the story

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Some Things are Best Left Forbidden**

_Rules are the bane of existence for many people, but the fact remains that most of them are there for our own protection and safety._

_Curiously enough, many children subconsciously crave these virtual boundaries even though they are likely to push them out as far as possible until the powers-that-be declare that they shall move no more. Some psychologists put this behaviour down to a child's need to feel secure and to know what is a safe area and what isn't. As such, it can be very interesting to watch from an outside perspective as these children grow, and to see how these boundaries influence their behaviour and their developing personality._

_However, as with all things in this world that have a positive outcome, there is always going to be the negative possibility that needs to be considered. Some people just can't understand why some things are best left forbidden._

~oOo~

Soon enough, the Christmas break came to an end (but not before Professor Sprout confronted Harry about his midnight wandering) and Poppy was able to brew Harry's potion the day before the rest of the school were due to return.

It had initially surprised him when he was told that he would need to remain in the hospital ward for a twelve hour period after taking the potion. However, that surprise quickly gave way to comprehension when he discovered first-hand that the potion caused the room to spin around rather violently. He was therefore rather glad for the option of being able to lie down and keep his eyes closed while waiting for the spinning to stop.

Thankfully, the potion seemed to do the trick and Harry was no longer waking up in the mornings feeling nauseous. He still had the occasional nightmare (mostly about a screaming child) but they didn't seem to be as bad as they had been those first few days after stumbling upon the mirror. There did seem to be one possible side-effect from the potion, but Harry didn't know how to describe it as anything other than 'hearing things' so it currently went unreported (he didn't want people to think he was crazy after all).

With the new term under way, the first-year Hufflepuffs quickly found themselves working harder than they had been thus far, and it seemed like every day they were being given enough homework to last them a week. About the only positive thing about the increase in their workload, was that they were now being taught much more practical magic than they had been previously.

Upon hearing some of the workload complaints coming from a group of first-years, Tonks had made the mistake of telling them that their current workload was nothing compared to what it would be like later on in their education. It was a simple, innocent comment but still nearly had Hannah (whom had been home-schooled, like many others from pure-blood families) in tears until she had been rescued from Tonks by Samantha Perkins, one of the fifth-year prefects.

Although he was not affected by the increased workload as much as Hannah was, Harry also found it somewhat harder to concentrate and absorb all the magical things they were being taught. This was noticeably demonstrated by the Lumos incident during the third week back in classes. Professor Flitwick had been strangely overjoyed at being nearly blinded by Harry's out-of-control spell, but most of the other first-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were not as pleased as their professor.

Needless to say, Harry made sure to dedicate as much practice time into that spell as he could. He even let Hermione help him out with it a bit. While he wasn't ready to make friends with her just yet (a decision helped along by the fact that she seemed to have made a few friends since Halloween) he had decided to not treat her like he had done in the past.

~oOo~

The final Saturday of February saw Harry once more ensconced within the library. This time the first-years were working in pairs on a research project for Defence Against the Dark Arts; one where they were required to present their findings to the class in a few weeks time. Harry had been paired up with Megan for this one, and the two had been given the task of researching one of the creatures that herpetophobic Harry felt sure that he never wished to ever meet in person: dragons.

They had already been sitting in a vane of warm late-afternoon sunlight for a few hours, when someone sat down at their work table.

"_How did you know it was me?_"

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion for a moment and looked up. "What are you talking... about?" He began to ask, only to trail off when he failed to see the one person that he expected.

Looking about them, he saw that he and Megan were more or less alone in the Creatures section of the library. The only person close to them was the older Ravenclaw girl whom had just sat down and was currently staring at him with a quirked eye-brow. He could have sworn that he had heard Tonks though.

A thought suddenly occurred to him and he took a closer look at the Ravenclaw. She was dressed in a typical Ravenclaw uniform, which wasn't that unexpected (even though it was a weekend, it wasn't that unusual to have some students elect to dress in their Hogwarts uniform). In fact everything about the older girl screamed out that she was a typical Ravenclaw, except for one thing that Harry managed to notice: a wide leather wrist-band which a certain person had been wearing since Christmas.

"Tonks?" he enquired.

Tonks stared at him in shock for a moment before slumping her shoulders and allowing her features to melt. She had finally managed to hold a different form for more than an hour, and until now nobody had been able to tell that it was her. She briefly wondered if she had reached a new time-limit on how long she could hold a morph.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked once settled back into her natural appearance.

Harry sat there for a moment as an eerie sense of déjà vu washed over him. "Your um, wrist-band... thing. I haven't seen anyone else wearing one."

"Oh, well that's good," she absently as she stared at the offending piece of leather. "Well not good that it gave me away, but good that I hadn't lost hold of the morph I was in."

"What is that, anyway?" Megan asked her.

"Oh. It was a Christmas present from my parents. Watch this," she said as she slid her fingers into a small pocket on the band and pulled out her wand. "See, it's a wand holder."

"It doesn't look like any holder that I've ever seen," replied the young girl as she leaned in for a closer look.

"Well that's because my parents had it made so that it could pass as a piece of muggle fashion. Because we live in the muggle world, it needed to blend in and be unnoticeable by muggles."

"Oh, so muggles wear that sort of thing?"

"Sure do. They're quite in vogue at the moment."

"Uh, Tonks," Harry interrupted. "Speaking of blending in; why are you walking around dressed like a Ravenclaw?"

Tonks took a quick glance around the area they were in before turning back to Harry. "I wanted to talk to you about Fluffy," she whispered.

"As a Ravenclaw?"

"Well, I think I'm being followed, or something,"

Harry threw her a sceptical look, while Megan had a quick look around them. "Followed?"

"Yeah, either that or I have a rather perverted admirer. I've been trying to catch you alone for a while now, but each time I get near the Friar shows up and starts talking to me."

Harry still wasn't quite convinced. "And the uniform?"

"Oh, I borrowed this from a friend in Ravenclaw. A quick face-change in the girls loo and I seem to have finally lost the ghost."

"What I wouldn't do to be able to change my appearance at will like that," Megan added in a wistful tone.

Tonks scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Trust me, it can be more bothersome than it seems. Why would you want to anyway?"

"Oh, please. You do know who I am, don't you?"

Tonks threw her a strange look. "Yeah. You Harry's friend, Megan."

"Megan _Jones_"

"Okay," Tonks replied slowly, completely unaware as to where the young girl was taking this.

"Megan Jones. As in _Gwenog_ Jones daughter..."

"Who?" Harry asked as he tried to work out what they were talking about.

Tonks barely waited a second before rebutting the girl and further confusing Harry. "Yeah, right! You're too old to be her daughter. She would have had to be like fifteen or something when you were born."

"Try eighteen. And lets just say that I'm overjoyed that being a Hufflepuff means that I won't run the risk of having to sleep in the same bed where... _that_ happened."

Tonks cast a disbelieving look at the girl, and was about to refute her claim when she noticed the expression on her face. "Damn," she whispered, "you aren't kidding, are you?"

"No," Megan replied as she slumped her shoulders.

"Um," Harry tentatively interrupted. "Who's Gwenog Jones?"

"Famous quidditch player, Harry," Tonks replied absently with a slight hint of awe in her voice.

"See what I mean?" Megan asked with a look of disgust. "Just once, I'd like to be able to introduce myself without people going like that. You know, I wanted to go to the Irish Druid's Academy instead, where my friends were going and people already know who I was. But _no_, I had to be be hidden away where reporters couldn't get to the captain's illegitimate daughter. I mean I don't even _like_ quidditch!"

"I think I understand," Harry said after his friend had finished her mini-rant. "It kind of creeps me out when people start talking about my mum the way they do. Especially after what I have read from her diaries."

Megan looked at her friend with wide eyes, unconsciously doing the same thing she wished people wouldn't do to her. "You have your mother's _diaries_? As in 'more than one'?"

"Yeah, she left them for me. I'm nowhere near finished reading them yet, but I've learned some interesting things about my parents from them." Harry let out an amused snort. "I think half the students here would die of shock to learn that Professor Snape used to be one of her best friends."

Tonks shot him an incredulous look, to which Harry only nodded and watched in amusement as she literally started to look a bit 'green around the gills'.

"Harry?" Harry turned back to Megan, before she continued. "Make sure you don't go telling just anyone about those diaries. There's a lot of people who would love to get their hands on them." she said very seriously.

"Don't worry, Professor Sprout told me the same thing about those, and a few other things." he added, giving Tonks' a quick, yet significant, look.

"She knows?" Tonks asked faintly. To Harry's confusion, it looked like she was about ready to run and hide at that revelation.

"Yeah, someone told her over Christmas break, when I... well, when I broke curfew."

A grin slowly spread across Tonks' face. "You broke curfew? Oh, Harry, you're finally growing up," she said as she wiped a fake tear from her eye.

"Hold on, I think you lost me there." Megan said as she looked between the other two.

Harry quickly glanced around, to ensure they were alone, then leaned across to Megan. Megan, obviously curious about Harry's sudden need for secrecy, did likewise.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone. Professor Sprout said that I shouldn't tell _anyone_ about them while I'm still at school." He saw Megan nod in acceptance, so continued. "My mum wasn't the only one who left me something. My dad left me an invisibility cloak and a rather interesting book of spells."

Megan's eyes bulged at the prospect of Harry having an invisibility cloak in his possession. Being from the wizarding world, Harry could only assume that she knew how rare they were supposed to be.

He didn't get to assume for long though, as Tonks swatted him on his shoulder. "Harry! Your family grimoire isn't just a book of interesting spells!" Tonks hissed, causing Megan's mouth to drop open.

"Your family grimoire?" Megan asked faintly. "Forget the diaries, Harry. People would kill for the chance to find out which spell your mother used to kill You-Know-Who."

Harry just snorted, drawing curious looks from the two girls. Rolling his eyes, he realised he had better explain.

"The book isn't what you think. My dad and his friends were some type of pre-Weasley pranksters. He ended up writing about much of the magic they found or made for their pranks. While I don't exactly have the same views on pranks after... well, you know..." The girls nodded so he continued, "I still think that some of the magic he wrote about is fascinating. I mean, I never knew that you could turn yourself into an animal, I always thought that someone else had to do it to you, like a curse or something."

"You dad wrote about animagus magic?" Tonks interrupted in an urgent whisper. "Harry, that's highly restricted magic. If McGonagall found out you had that sort of information, she'd likely try to lock the book away until you graduate. The punishments for misusing it are supposed to be bad. There's no special law concerning metamorphmagi because we're so rare, but there is for animagi. Whatever you do, Harry, be careful with what's written in that book."

Harry felt a pang of defeat in his gut. He had been seriously thinking about trying it out, but after hearing Tonks' concerns and seeing the look of worry on Megan's face, he now thought that he had better look into just what that law was. He was just about to ask Tonks what was so special about it when he noticed that something else had captured her attention.

"Hagrid?" she called out, causing the large man in question to drop the book he had pulling from the shelf.

Hagrid quickly turned on the spot, accidentally knocking the bookshelf at the same time. For a moment, Harry was positive that it would fall over, but it managed to remain standing. Although, judging from the yelp from the other side of it, someone did learn that falling books didn't make for good hats.

"Wha'? Oh, uh, hi there, lass. Yeh startled me a bit there," Hagrid replied as he quickly hid some books behind his back.

Harry couldn't help but wonder what the man was doing creeping around the library. Sure, one had to be quiet in the library, but just how had the impossibly large man been able to creep up so quietly? Or, more appropriately: why?

"Why are you trying to hide books about dragons?" Tonks asked.

"Books? Oh, uh, righ'," Hagrid mumbled as he revealed the books he was trying to hide. "Well, yeh see... I uh... well tha's to say..."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid. Anybody who's taken Professor Kettleburn's class knows about your interest in dragons. But why were you trying to hide the books?" Tonks persisted, her words gaining Megan's attention.

"You're interested in dragons? I don't suppose you have anything interesting you could tell us for our research project?" she begged. "The only information we can find seems to be hundreds of years out of date. I mean, you'd think that with all the dragons out there, a library this size would have something more recent."

Harry couldn't stop the shiver from going down his spine when he thought of how common dragons were supposed to be, but he still had to agree with Megan. Even though this library was _huge_, most of the books he had come across seemed to be older than the headmaster.

Hagrid shuffled on the spot for a moment, before glancing around him and leaning down to them. "I don' know about books 'n stuff, but... uh... would yer like to see one?" he whispered quietly. Well, it was quiet for Hagrid, which meant that it was still rather loud.

Harry looked at Hagrid oddly for a moment before realisation dawned and his face paled. Seeing a dragon close-up was definitely not something Harry wanted to do.

"You know where to find a dragon?" Tonks asked excitedly.

"Well, I wouldn' say it were a dragon jus' yet. But the egg should be hatching any day now. It's why I've been lookin' fer some books on what they eat."

What they _eat?_ Harry paled further at that simple statement.

"Oh, can we see it? Please?" Tonks pleaded, earning herself an incredulous look from Harry. She actually _wanted_ to get close to a dragon?

"Sure, why not? I'll send yer a note when it starts ter hatch. All three of yeh can come down and watch."

Hagrid seemed to positively beam at the thought of more people showing such an interest in dragons. Harry, however, was madly trying to work out how he got caught in the middle of this and how he could get back out of it. Megan, who had discovered Harry's phobia of reptiles at the start of the project, noticed the sudden look of panic on his face and tried to quietly reassure him.

"Don't worry, Harry. It's only going to be a baby so it won't be able to harm us. Besides, seeing a dragon hatch has to be a once in a life-time opportunity."

Harry looked towards Tonks for some support, but saw that she was nodding her head rather excitedly in agreement. Grimacing, Harry couldn't help but feel that there was no way out of this one.

Once Hagrid and Tonks had went their separate ways (with Tonks completely forgetting about talking to Harry about Fluffy), Harry and Megan began (at Megan's insistence) to compile a list of things to find out about baby dragons. None of them noticed that much of their conversation about dragons had been overheard by two other sets of ears. One, high up in the rafters, belonging to a small tawny owl; the other belonging to another first-year, whom had been eavesdropping from the other side of the bookshelf whiled he rubbed the newly forming bruise on top of his head.

~oOo~

It had been over a week since Harry, Megan and Tonks had run into Hagrid in the school library, and during that time he had been fervently ignoring the potential visit to see the baby dragon. He had been hoping that either Megan and Tonks would forget the fact that he had been included in Hagrid's invitation, or that Hagrid had shown some common sense and turned the dragon egg into a dragon-egg omelette. Little did his eleven year-old self realise that one couldn't make an omelette out of a ready-to-hatch dragon egg and that the memories of Tonks and Megan would be irrelevant in this situation.

Harry and the other Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first-years had just completed another potions class and were on their way up to the Great Hall for their lunch. For the Hufflepuffs it was to be their last class of the day, whereas the the Ravenclaws had a herbology class after lunch. They had just reached the ground floor of the castle when a lone owl came swooping down the corridor, heading directly towards Harry. The owl dropped a small scroll at Harry's feet before making a graceful turn and heading off towards the Transfiguration Wing.

Harry paused for a moment and stared at the scroll with a frown on his face. He wasn't sure why, but he just knew that he didn't want to open it.

"Well, are you going to read it?"

Harry looked to his right to find Megan standing next to him, looking curious. Glancing about, he saw that the others were simply stepping around them an continuing on towards the Great Hall. Giving into the inevitable, Harry scooped up the scroll and opened it to reveal some very messy writing.

. _ .

_Dear Harry,_

_According to one of the books, the you-know-what should be happening in the next four to six hours. I would think that you and Miss Jones and Miss Tonks should look at being you-know-where after dinner._

_Hagrid._

_. _ .  
_

Harry groaned and felt like banging his head on a wall. He really didn't want to do this. As Megan started reading over his shoulder, a sudden thought struck him.

"Hey, he never told us where to meet. We can just skip out, and if he asks then we say that we couldn't find where the egg was being kept!"

Megan glared at him in response. "Harry Potter, you can't be scared of scaly things for your whole life-"

"Says who?" Harry interrupted, earning him a slap on the arm.

"You know full well where he would keep it before it hatched, and tonight you _will_ be overcoming this phobia of yours."

"But why? I like this phobia. It's prevented me from being eaten by a dragon."

"Harry, you've never even _seen_ a dragon before. Besides, this is only going to be a hatchling. There's no way it could harm you, so confronting it now is a great idea. Not to mention that seeing a dragon hatch is a once in a life-time opportunity."

"No harm? What if it can already breath fire?"

"_Harry,_" Megan groaned before trying again.

Megan and Harry continued on like this, quietly, for most of the afternoon, but in the end Harry still found himself being half-dragged out of the main doors of the castle and down to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the forest.

"I still don't see why I have to do this," Harry whined. "There's nothing wrong with having a healthy fear of something that could roast you alive with little more than a sneeze."

"_Harry!_ You need to do this," Tonks growled at him as they walked past a large, sulking dog and up to the door Hagrid's hut, where Megan dutifully knocked. "Just because you aren't in Gryffindor, does not mean that you have to be a coward about it. Besides, as Madam Pomfrey keeps saying, cures are not meant to be pleasant."

Before Harry could retort, he was distracted by the door to the hut being swung open by someone wearing a very frilly, pink apron and what looked to be a pair of bright green oven mitts.

"Come in, come in. Quickly now, have ter keep the place warm fer Norbert."

Taking opportunity of Harry's stunned looked, the two girls quickly ushered him into the hut before he could do anything about it.

~oOo~

Flying above the three Hufflepuffs as they entered the dwelling were five curious owls.

When Click-click-hoot had reported that the fledgeling had been invited to see a dragon hatch, it had quickly lead to an interesting debate about what a dragon actually was. Given that none of the watchers had ever seen a dragon (and neither had any of the homing pigeo... uh, post owls) they had turned up a wide range of descriptions ranging from a large insect, to something that was as large as the loch that the school sat next to.

Out of a desire to see for themselves (and also so Hedwig could convince that annoying eagle owl that no creature could ever be born with bright pink feathers) they unanimously decided to spy on the hatching.

Seeing that the fledglings were all inside, Hedwig took the lead and glided down to the window sill that she had picked out as having a good view into the dwelling.

~oOo~

The children inadvertently gasped as they entered. It was hot. _Very_ hot. It looked as though Hagrid has jammed up anything that could possibly let any warm air escape, creating his own live-in oven.

"Norbert? We missed the hatching?" asked a crestfallen Megan as she paused in taking off her winter coat.

"Oh no. Yeh haven' missed anything yet. By the way he's been twitching, I'd say yeh were just on time."

Megan looked at Hagrid with a confused expression. "But if the egg hasn't hatched, then how do you know it's a boy dragon?"

"Oh, tha's easy, tha' is. It's the size of the egg, yeh see. Can't be nothin' but a boy with an egg tha' big."

"Is this it?" asked Tonks in an awed voice. She had already shed her winter coat and was currently staring into a cauldron that was sitting over a roaring fire.

"Yep, tha's little Norbert. Have ter keep him over the fire yeh see 'cause-"

"-because the mother dragon breaths fire on the eggs to encourage them to hatch," Megan interrupted as she too hunched over the cauldron. In doing so, she missed seeing the large smile that crept over Hagrid's face at having found someone to share his passion with.

For the first time in this whole situation, Harry felt slight torn. On one hand, he still didn't want to be anywhere near the dragon; on the other hand, he felt a twinge of curiosity as to what they were looking at.

"Come now, Harry. No need ter be shy," Hagrid said as Harry felt a huge hand push him forward towards the cauldron (and nearly face first into it).

The sight the greeted Harry was nothing like he had expected. But if he had been wholly truthful with himself at the time then he would have realised that he wasn't really sure what to expect. The egg was sitting at the base of the cauldron and looked like no egg Harry had ever seen before. It was just a little bit larger than a rugby ball and looked like it could easily be mistaken for a large rock of some type. That is if there were any rocks in the world that were both pitch-black and able to look stone-cold against the faint orange glow of an incredibly hot cauldron.

"Do you know what breed it is, Hagrid?" asked Megan.

"Accordin' to the man tha' gave me the egg, tha' there's a Norwegian Ridgeback."

Megan blinked for a moment, before rounding on Hagrid. "But I thought they were nearly extinct. How did you get an egg?"

"Won it off an Irish feller I met down the pub. Yer get to meet all sorts of interestin' people while drinking down at the Hog's Head."

Harry wasn't sure what part of that statement made him more uncomfortable. The fact people would willingly gamble with something as dangerous as a dragon (okay, dragon egg) or the fact that Hagrid sounded like he did this sort of thing regularly. He couldn't comprehend who, in their right mind, would do such a thing.

"_Harry Potter,"_ an odd voice whispered in his ear.

Harry, who was still looking at the unusual egg, spun around at the sound of the voice. Seeing that no one seemed to be speaking to him, he passed it off as just being his jittery imagination. After all, he was all but forcibly being made to watch the birth of a creature which Harry was sure would rather have him for dinner than be friends with him. Try as he might, though, he couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling that he had heard that voice before.

Joining the others, who by this stage had moved to the dining table, Harry did his best to shake off that feeling.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tonks interrupted Hagrid. "You mean to say that this man, who you had never met before, had all but forced you to take the egg? Even though it's an incredibly rare egg that many dragon breeders would likely kill for?"

"Well, I wouldn't say tha' he was just goin' ter give the egg to anyone now, would I? I did tell him tha' I always wanted a dragon, but he made sure tha' I would look after it first."

"And how, exactly, did he do that?"

Harry could tell that something in this conversation was making Tonks feel uneasy. Though, what it was exactly, he couldn't put his finger on.

"Well, I had ter tell 'im about some of the interestin' creatures I'd raised. I had 'im convinced by the time I'd told him about Aragog, an' Snowy an' his herd, an' o' course, Fluffy."

Harry's head snapped up at this. "Fluffy? He wanted to know about Fluffy?"

"Well o' course," Hagrid stated as though it was plain to see. "After all, how many three-headed dogs do yeh come across these days."

Harry shared a look with the others before Tonks continued. "Did he want to know about where Fluffy is at the moment? What Fluffy's doing?"

Obviously it was the wrong thing to ask though, as Harry saw a stormy expression flash across Hagrid's face. It was an expression that Harry knew well; the same one that Uncle Vernon wore when Harry did something wrong... (Harry shook his head slightly...) when Uncle Vernon _thought_ that Harry had done something wrong. After spending so much time around the other Hufflepuffs, Harry was still a bit at odds about how abnormal his supposedly normal relatives actually were.

"Now see here, lass! I told yeh before, don' go pokin' yer nose in where it don' belong. Tha' there's personal business between Professor Dumbledore and Mr Flamel. If I -"

Hagrid never finished Tonks' scolding as at that time a loud crack rung out through the small hut, causing his stormy expression to change to one of utter joy.

Standing from the table with enough speed to make the whole table jump when he knocked it, Hagrid raced over to the cauldron in two giant strides. Harry watched apprehensively as he carefully plucked the egg out of the still glowing cauldron and place it on the table (which promptly started to smoke in complaint of having the hot egg placed upon it). Looking at the egg, the three students could see a definite crack in the egg's surface. Everybody present watched, with held breath, as they witnessed something that few people ever got the chance to see. Although Harry's held breath (and pounding heart), had more to with the fact that he was about to come face to face with a real live dragon.

It began slowly with a slight wiggle, but soon more cracks began to form and small fragments of egg started to fall away. Finally, with a small explosion of egg-shell, Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback was hatched.

The baby dragon, they discovered, was as black as its egg and was already nearly a foot and a half, from nose to tail-tip. At the sight of the baby dragon taking its first steps and its first breaths, even Harry (rather begrudgingly) had to admit that it made for a rather cute sight. Definitely not the scary monster that had been running though Harry's imagination.

"Oh, bless 'im," Hagrid all but sobbed whe Norbert chirruped at him, "he knows his mummy."

Suddenly, Harry wasn't feeling that scared at all, in fact he had the sudden urge to laugh at the sight of Hagrid babying the baby dragon. Glancing at the others, he saw that they too were trying not to laugh. All thoughts of laughter died in Harry, however, when he saw Norbert give off an almighty sneeze that nearly set Hagrid's beard on fire. Harry's mind seemed to jam up at that moment on the fact that Norbert wasn't even five minutes old and yet he could already breath fire.

Outside, the five owls also stared wide-eyed at the vivid confirmation that dragons could in fact breath fire.

Harry was brought back to reality at the sound of hissing and snarling.

"Now, Norbert, yeh be nice to Harry," Hagrid scolded the dragon.

Harry looked at the table to see Norbert snarling at him. Filled with a sudden need to be elsewhere, Harry lunged backwards and promptly toppled his chair to the ground, just as Norbert made a lunge in his direction. Even though the lunge still left Norbert a fair distance from him, Harry couldn't help but wonder why the dragon had done it.

"What is it with me and reptiles?" he groused, causing Megan to stare oddly at him for a moment, before finally bursting into laughter. "Hey! It's not funny, he could of set me on fire there!"

"Oh, come now, Harry. Norbert was only playin' with yeh," Hagrid chuckled.

By this point, Tonks was looking rather confused. "What am I missing here?"

"Only the fact that Mr Brave there on the floor can't get a response out any wand that uses a reptile part as a core," Megan chuckled.

Harry threw Megan an curious look as he picked himself up. "You actually remembered that? We had that talk months ago!"

"Well, it was pretty funny. Especially the part about blowing up the door. I think you have to hold the record for the longest wand matching that Ollivander ever had to do."

"Nah, not possible," Tonks stated proudly, "I have that record. He spent a whole weekend trying to find a match for me. In the end he spent the next month trying to make a custom one from scratch. Even then, it took him half a dozen attempts to get it to work right. So, what type of wand did you end up with, Harry?"

"Beech and Veela hair," Harry replied as he ran his hand over his wand pocket.

He paused for a moment as wayward thoughts of clothing with unusual pockets were pushed aside by the now familiar feeling of music. The sudden lack of noise caused Harry to glance around the room and eventually fall upon Hagrid, who had Norbert in one hand and was just standing there staring at Harry in shock.

"Hagrid?"

"So tha's why," Hagrid absently replied, before frowning in confusion and shaking his head. "But tha' makes no sense."

"What makes no sense?" Harry wasn't sure that he wanted to know but the way the man was acting said that it had to be important.

Hagrid peered at Harry for a moment before responding. "Professor Sprout was askin' me about veela a couple a months ago. Said she was worried 'bout a new student with veela blood. But I don' reckon yer parents had a drop of veela in 'em at all."

A groan and a bang drew their attention to Tonks who now had her forehead resting on the table. "So that's why the Friar was following me," the older girl groaned.

Harry was about to ask her what she was talking about when Megan into laughter once more. Seeing his confused face, Megan took pity on him and decided to enlighten him. Once she caught her breath that was.

"Harry, veela are mountain nymphs. They appear as very beautiful woman who can get men to do whatever they want."

That explanation took a moment for Harry to comprehend but, when he did, he couldn't help but feel insulted. "But I'm a _boy_, not a _girl!"_ he declared, causing the others to burst into laughter once more.

The four spent quite a while that night just talking about inconsequential things, their topics sprouting out from their brief discussion on wands. Harry had been intrigued to learn that Hagrid also used to own a wand, but that it had been snapped when he was fourteen. Hagrid refused to go into details about it and quickly diverted the topic whenever they tried to pry him for information. In the end, it was quite late when they made their trip back to the castle.

"So what's this plan you have for getting us back to the common room without getting caught past curfew?" Megan asked, causing Harry to feel bad about not bringing his dad's invisibility cloak. He had promised Professor Sprout that he wouldn't use it though.

"Simple," Tonks' replied, "any student is allowed outside of their dormitories at night if they have a prefect escorting them."

Megan looked at Tonks like she had grown a second head before explaining very slowly, "Tonks, we are two first-years and a third-year. It may have escaped your notice, but none of us are prefects."

Tonks rolled her eyes before she stopped walking and started concentrating. Slowly, her features reshaped themselves into a passable, if rather short, facsimile of Samantha Perkins. She stood there for a moment, grinning, at the gob-smacked expressions on the two first-years.

"See? Simple. If one doesn't have a prefect handy, then one just needs to make one."

"While that may be a useful thing for someone of your abilities, Miss Tonks, it seems to have escaped your notice that Miss Perkins is a full foot taller than you."

The group spun around to the source of the new voice, and Tonks rapidly lost control of her morph when they saw Professor Snape step out of the shadows of the castle.

* * *

**A/N:** Originally this was going to be longer and go into the whole detention thing in the forest, but that proved to be too long so I split it up into two parts. I didn't mean to come across as being condescending to anybody out there that has a phobia, but I felt that needed to stress that Harry has a deep fear of reptiles in this AU (doesn't take a genius to work out why) and to show what is being done to overcome that fear. Also you should (if you haven't already) be able to start piecing together what is happening with Harry and what the deal is with his friends (in this case, Megan... and yes, I realise that I have made Gwenog slightly older and with a different ethnicity).

The whole Irish school thing came to mind when I was crunching the figures for what a sustainable magical population of Britain would be. It didn't make sense to me for JKR to have only a few hundred magical children across four countries and also have daily murders and disappearances during the two 'wars' with Voldemort, so I made up a second school that is based out of Ireland. I've read a number of stories which make use of this multiple school philosophy, so know that I'm not the only one who thinks this way.

The next chapter should be posted in the next day or two.


	14. Breaking Point

Uh, Hi. Sorry for the long gap in postings but you know how it goes... work, procrastination, illness, procrastination, visiting family, procrastination... I guess you're all getting the pattern here? Well, I'm back, I better, I don't have as much pressure on at work so I'm all set to wrap up this first instalment and get on with the rest of the story which seems to be growing more each time I think about it (I've already got ideas for a number of different spin-offs to be done _after_ these first seven parts... which I plan on laying the ground work for within the story).

Anywho, since it's been a while, I guess a quick recap is in order:

_Chapter 1_: Set back on that fateful night when Voldemort breaches the Potters protections on the hunt for the secret to where to find Neville Longbottom. Before the night is done, we learn that Lily believes everyone is looking towards the wrong child, Voldemort tickles Harry with the Cruciatus curse only to be told off by Hedwig's grandmother, then gets an up-close and personal view of his own killing curse (an action which releases a certain item that is important for the future)

_Chapter 2_: We see what has become of Harry when he has been been raised by the Dursley's in a mentally abusive home (as opposed to a physically abusive one that most fanfiction authors put him in), learn that Harry is deathly afraid of reptiles (bring on the basilisk now ;-) , and that something is wrong with the honey.

_Chapter 3_: Conspiracies abound as Dumbledore ruins holidays with meetings, Flitwick and Hooch try to hide an affair, Sprout is at an emergency summit for gardeners, McGonagall forgot about Harry and Poppy Pomfrey almost has a heart attack trying to keep a promise.

_Chapter 4_: We find out that Hedwig has a job and it has nothing to do with being a homing pigeon. Minnie McGonagall gets to put Vernon in his place and Pomfrey tries to pronounce a Welsh name (seriously, is _anybody_ who isn't Welsh capable of pronouncing some of those?) while saving Harry from having to wear a circus tent to school.

_Chapter 5_: Harry learns to never go shopping with women and the goblins not only set Pomfrey's teeth on edge, but also like the Dursley's bath soap. We also find out that Ollivander's father seems to have had a drinking habit, that not all wands like being handled by the wand maker and apparently only one likes being handled by Harry.

_Chapter 6:_ The train ride to Hogwarts. Muggles are getting suspicious at Kings Cross, Harry does the stupid thing of running head-first into a brick wall (without injuring himself) when he only just makes the train, even though he was the first to show up (must have been a really interesting book he was reading). Petunia hits the turps.

_Chapter 7:_ The sorting and the meet and great. Harry meets his first poltergeist, gets called a girl and causes a prefect to do a spit-take during the sorting. He also gets to meet Tonks for the first time and the idiot girl gets off on the wrong foot with him. The sorting hat knows more than he should...

_Chapter 8:_ Tonks' metamorph abilities causes some identity issues and we learn the truth about why Harry's presence freaked her out. We also learn a bit about how naïve Harry is, something that could have probably soothed Sprout's nerves when she suspects one of her new Hufflepuffs to be a bit more Veela-like than normal, thanks to his wand (the magic one, he's too naïve to realise what the other one is for).

_Chapter 9:_ Hedwig checks in with the home office to find that we have some missing owls that feel though a plot-hole and almost gets eaten while trying to cover up said hole, she gets promoted to Prime Minister Owl for her sneakiness. Harry is finally making some friends but they almost get licked to death by Hagrid's wee puppy. Fawkes let slip that something is different about Harry and that the boy is there, but not there (for those that know what to look for)

_Chapter 10:_ Dun, dun, dun. The troll incident. Harry: 0, Troll: 0, Hagrid: 2 (bonus point for the perfect rugby tackle). Harry also gets a letter from Dad. We learn a few interesting things about his new friends and their reactions, Longbottom got caught in the girls loo and Draco hair makes a great bat-roost.

_Chapter 11: _ Harry's first Christmas that he can actually remember (and just what the hell was the deal with the gift from Aunt Petunia). Something funky happens to him during the snowball fight. Later, Harry finds the mirror of ridiculous names and gets first spooked then sick. Poppy is concerned (but at least he isn't pregnant).

_Chapter 12:_ Harry's herpetophobia causes problems when Norbert comes onto the scene and, in trying to cure him, Tonks along with Holyhead's own illegitimate daughter drag him down to watch the pink-feathered flying insect hatch out of an egg the size of a highland loch (that's the homing pig... er, _post owls_ talking, not me). Snape is caught lurking again (isn't there a law against waiting on corners trying to catch passers by?).

Okay, everyone remember where we are up to now? Good.

* * *

**Chapter 13 – Breaking Point**

_Everybody has their breaking points. Those limits where we can no longer take the emotional strain of the things happening around us and we lash out at that whatever is convenient._

_For many this would merely result in bruised friendships that are easily healed. For an unlucky few, it can result in the breaking of families and the end of things once held so dear. Occasionally, though, someone with access to great power will reach a breaking point that results in nothing but violence, destruction, death... war._

~oOo~

Megan had been sitting, huddled in her warm coat, on one of the cold stone seats outside the main entrance for nearly ten minutes now as she waited for the others to show. Overall, she was feeling rather gloomy at the moment and it wasn't the frosty, early spring night that was causing it. The little 'field trip' that the three Hufflepuffs had participated in the previous night had landed them all in more than just a little bit of trouble.

Apparently, being caught outside the castle, after curfew, was a lot more serious than if they had been caught inside, after curfew. To begin with, Professor Snape had taken fifty house points from them on the spot (each) and then proceeded to assign a week of detentions. He also made sure to mention that Tonks was going to get much more punishment assigned to her by Professor Sprout, but didn't hint as to what it would be. Judging from the evil smirk he had on his face at the time, it couldn't be anything pleasant. Megan frowned for a moment as she thought about Tonks. Nobody had seen her at all today and the gossip going around the school seemed to be that she had been expelled.

She seriously hoped that that wasn't the case.

A sudden gust of cold Scottish wind broke her from her thoughts and made her pull her coat around her more tightly. She could hardly wait until they started learning how to use heating and warming spells. Once the gust passed by, her thoughts turned to the third member of their little misadventure: Harry. He was concerning her the most at the moment.

When her fellow Hufflepuffs had discovered the one hundred and fifty point deficit that morning, it hadn't taken them long to uncover what had transpired. As a result, she and Harry had been on the receiving end of a group reprimand from all of the Hufflepuff prefects. At the time she couldn't help but notice that Tonks had been conspicuously missing from that little session.

Now, while Megan had been told off enough times in her short life that it didn't really bother her that much, Harry appeared to have taken it to heart. When added to the fact that many in Hufflepuff had chosen to avoid talking to them that day, it had the affect that Harry seemed to have once again withdrawn from the world around him. It was doubtful that she had been the only one to notice this, so it was more than enough for her to wonder what had ever happened to the unwritten rule stating that Hufflepuffs were supposed to stick together.

The real clincher for Megan was that it all come back to her, and Harry seemed to know it. Every time she had tried to talk to him today he would just turn away from her, but not before she had time to see an emotion hidden in his eyes that she had never seen there before: angry betrayal. She wasn't above admitting that it hurt a little bit to know that she had caused that. After all, he hadn't wanted to go, and she was the one that forced him.

The sudden sound of approaching footfalls caused her to look up and she almost jumped in surprise. "Tonks! You're here!"

"Well I'd much rather be here at the moment than at home."

"What happened? Nobody has seen you all day. Where were you?"

Tonks grimaced as she sat down next to Megan. "Meetings," she stated, allowing that word to hang in the air for a moment before speaking again. "Meetings with Sprout, meetings with McGonagall and Sprout, meetings with my mother and Sprout, meetings with my father and McGonagall and a meeting with the Headmaster and _both_ of my parents."

"Oh... so... how bad?"

"Well, I'm grounded until Ch-"

"_Grounded__?_" Megan interrupted. "You're at school, how can you be grounded?"

Tonks shrugged a bit, "Yeah, well, that argument didn't seem to go over so well with Mum at the time. So, I'm grounded until Christmas. Also, Sprout has me cleaning out greenhouses until the end of the year and I have her promise that I will never have either a prefect or head girl badge." She paused to let out a snort. "Never really wanted either of them, anyway.

"Oh, and if I ever get caught impersonating a prefect again, or worse, a teacher, then I can apparently expect to be expelled."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Could have been worse, though. Hey Harry."

"Hey."

Megan's shot her head around to see that Harry was indeed approaching. Looking to his face though, she flinched slightly at his barely hidden look of anger and quickly dropped her gaze.

It had been her who had pressured him into seeing the dragon.

It was her who had put that expression on his face.

Figuratively squaring her shoulders, she looked up again to apologize, only to end up scowling in annoyance when she spotted another person joining their little group.

~oOo~

Harry had been feeling angry for most of the day. He understood perfectly well that he had been caught doing something wrong. He also understood that he had to expect to be punished for it, and that he would likely be loosing most of his friends because of it. After all, he had been punished enough times by his aunt and uncle that he understood why they were doing this to him. Granted, he no longer believed that all of those punishments had been justifiable, but he did understand why naughty people needed to be punished.

Why then was he feeling this angry? He had felt angry before, especially towards his cousin, but he had never felt _this_ angry before. At times it was like there was an unbelievable pressure within him wanting to burst out and scream and shout at how unfair the people were being towards him. Worse still, that feeling usually intensified when he thought of Megan and Tonks, and how they had roped him into seeing Norbert's hatching. He didn't want to angry with them; they were his friends. Possibly the only friends he would have left in a week or two.

So, why was he so angry?

Harry shook those thoughts from his mind as he turned the corner and spotted Tonks and Megan waiting outside. Taking a calming breath, he paused for a moment to give him time to do what he had been doing all day: forcing the anger deep down in the desperate hope that it would go away.

Tonks was the first to spot him. "Hey Harry," she called out.

"Hey," he called back as he passed his gaze over the two of them.

Tonks appeared to be sulking somewhat, so he figured that she had been given her extra punishment. He wondered what it could have been to do that to her normally energetic personality. Megan seemed a bit upset about things as well, and wouldn't meet his eyes for long. The flinch that he caught only seemed to fuel the anger that he was trying so desperately to quell.

He was more than somewhat surprised when her eyes locked onto something behind him and a scowl formed upon her face. "What do you want, Weasley?" she called out.

Turning, Harry spotted Ron Weasley joining them, also dressed for a cold spring night.

Weasley threw Megan a hard look. "Wishing I wasn't in detention because of a bunch of incompetent 'puffs."

"Wow, the baby lion knows a big word."

Ron ignored Tonks' sarcastic comment (but Harry did notice an angry flush creep up his neck) and turned his gaze towards Harry. "At least I know why you were all put into Hufflepuff. A gryffindor could have made it all the way to Hogsmeade and back without getting caught."

Harry felt the anger surge at the other boy's comments. He was finding that he was rather enjoying his time as a hufflepuff. Sure there were many disparaging comments towards his house but, after seeing how all the houses acted, he would rather be a 'puff than anything else. Besides, the sorting hat had mentioned that he would be well suited for Gryffindor, despite the other boy's comments.

His anger subsided as that thought ran through his mind. Why did the hat place him in Hufflepuff and not Gryffindor? Harry could now only vaguely remember his sorting and most of what he could remember was taken up with the embarrassing memory of the hat calling him a girl. Though he could remember something about exposure and questions, and that the hat was going to have to talk to him again. So why hadn't he... she... er, _it_ done so? Harry hadn't seen hide nor hair of it since the sorting.

Tonks shook her head and spoke up again, "And only a gryffindor would be stupid enough to bother with such a task when all that you could need is readily accessible by anyone with half a brain."

Before the lone gryffindor could defend the mental capacity of his house, Megan quickly interrupted him. "Wait a minute," she said as she stood up and crossed her arms before fixing the ginger-haired boy with a hard stare. "What did you mean by you being in detention because of a group of 'puffs?"

This time it was Harry's turn to interrupt the boy as a realisation struck him with such and intensity that he could swear that it left a rather loud ringing sound in his ears. "Snape was waiting for us," he said aloud, drawing the attention of the two girls as an image fluttered across his mind. One of Snape rapidly sweeping out of the castle with narrow-minded purpose; his cloak flying out behind him and making him look much like a child running around in a batman costume. Only... he was... running _backwards_?

He suddenly felt a sharp pain between his eyes that caused him to clench them closed. Before he could open them again, he realised something else, something important to their situation. "Someone told him," he said as he opened his eyes and rounded on the lone gryffindor. "_You_ told him," he accused in a voice cold enough to send the ginger-haired boy back a step as Harry's eyes flashed with the anger that he had desperately been trying to suppress.

"Hey! It wasn't me!" the he claimed, even as the boy's face grew a few shades paler in the light of the full moon. "I'm no tattle-tail, Potter. Maybe he overheard you talking about the dragon."

Tonks narrowed her eyes as she peered at the young boy and asked the question that had popped into all of their minds. "How did you know about Norbert?"

Weasley threw her a blank look, "Who the bloody hell is Norbert?"

"Norbert," Megan stated as she advanced upon what she was considered to be one of the most annoying boys in the school, "the Norwegian Ridgeback. A dragon you should know nothing about."

"Hey, I didn't say anything about a..." Weasley started, only to trail off as his gaze swept from the advancing girl and back to Harry. "Merlin's pants, Potter. Do someone about that nose, will ya."

Harry blinked at the odd remark before raising a hand to his nose, only to feel something damp. Pulling it away he realised that his nose had started bleeding. He began patting down his pockets, looking for the handkerchief that he knew he had put in one of them, but was interrupted by Tonks spinning him around. Obviously she had seen the blood on his hand.

Before she could say anything, though, she leaned back in surprise. "Blimey, Harry. How could you not notice that?" she asked as she pointed to his jacket.

Looking down, he was shocked to see a large growing trail of blood on his jacket. What was worse was that it was the wrong colour. Harry furrowed his brow. No... blood was supposed to be red. Right? So, how could the growing red stain the wrong colour? It was _supposed_ to be red.

"Now, this might sting a little, Harry," Tonks said, drawing Harry's gaze to the wand that was currently pointed between his eyes.

Harry's eyes widened and all thoughts of been told on by Weasley left his mind as he quickly moved to ask her what she was doing, but before he could say anything she was already casting a spell.

"Confuto!"

Both of Harry's hands flew up to his face where there was now an intense burning sensation between his eyes. "Ow," he eventually gasped.

"Oops," Tonks cringed as she quickly began to peel Harry's hands away, causing Weasley to snort. "Sorry, I don't think it's supposed to sting _that_ much. I didn't explode an eyeball or anything, did I?"

Harry fixed her with an incredulous look and even Weasley paused mid-chuckle. _Explode an __eyeball_?

Megan's laughter replaced Weasley's in the moment of silence. "Don't worry Tonks. Mum says that having your nose worked on is always more painful that you expect."

"Explodean _eyeball_?" Harry finally managed to gasp out.

Tonks had the decency to look a little chagrined when she replied. "Well... I've never tried that spell before." Seeing Harry's expression at that comment, she quickly tried to elaborate. "But I've seen Madam Pomfrey do it heaps of times." No, that didn't help. "Besides, if there had been any eyeball explodage-" she paused for a bit. _'Explodage'_, was that even a word? She shook her head at her own mental question. No, definitely not a word. "Anyway, I'm sure that Pomfrey could have easily fixed any mishaps."

Harry wasn't entirely convinced, but still let her clean up the blood stains from his hand and jacket. Just in time too, as Hagrid had arrived to oversee their detention. Harry couldn't help but notice that he seemed particularly sad at the moment.

"Is everything okay, Hagrid?" Megan asked.

"Wha'? Oh, yeah, yeah. It's jus'," a sob tried to escape the large man before he quickly reigned it in and he took a deep breath. "It's Norbert."

"Oh no!" cried Megan. "What happened? He didn't... he didn't... die or anything, did he?"

Harry couldn't help but stare dumbly at Megan. He had just experienced the worst nosebleed that he had ever had that didn't involve somebody's fist and she was worried about a dragon?

"Oh, no, no!" Hagrid quickly corrected. "Norbert's fine. It's jus' tha'..." Hagrid took in a long shaky breath, "Dumbledore's sent 'im off to Romania. Ter be with the other dragons." The last bit he said as he forlornly looked off into the distance to where Harry had to guess Romania would be.

Personally, Harry was quite glad that the dragon was no longer anywhere near the castle. Sure the baby dragon had been a little bit cute (in a very disturbing way) but it was still a dragon and Harry had no intention of being nearby when it grew up.

After a brief moment of commiseration from Megan, Hagrid lead the group down the slope towards his hut. With each step, he seemed to grow more and more serious causing Harry to wonder what it was they were supposed to be doing during their detention. Especially since he could feel that anger, which had so recently found an outlet, begin bubbling again with each step, causing him to have to put more effort into suppressing it.

As they reached reached Hagrid's hut, the large man reached inside and withdrew an equally large crossbow, a lantern, and the large dog that Harry had noticed the previous night.

"Over here then. Yeh'll need ter have a look at this ter see what yer lookin' for."

They followed Hagrid to the edge of the forest, where there was a large overturned pale, next to a tree. Hagrid removed the pale to reveal a silvery stain on the ground. Unconsciously, one of Harry's hands reached up to where his nose-blood had fallen onto his jacket.

"Had ter keep it covered durin' the day ter keep the animals from getting ter it. Tha' there's unicorn blood. Noticed it jus' after lunch. Somewhere in there, a unicorn's been injured and we need ter go and find it before somethin' else does."

Harry could tell that Hagrid was worried about something but the large man didn't offer any hint at to what it was.

"Y-you want us to go in there? A-at night?" Ron stuttered, as he pointed towards the forest, causing a small smirk to form on Tonks' face at the sound of the 'bravely' stuttering Gryffindor.

"Yeah, we're goin' in there... at night. We have ter yeh see. The unicorn needs our help and unicorn blood is damned near impossible ter see durin' the day. The moon's full at the moment, so it'll be easier ter follow the trail."

A sudden thought struck Harry as he looked up to see see an full moon hanging in the clear sky. "Um, Hagrid? Are there any werewolves around here?"

"Werewolves?" squeaked Ron as he and the others quickly looked up towards the moon.

"No, no. No werewolves in there. At least I've never seen one in there... well apart from tha' one time... but na, tha' was back when yer parents were here, Harry. Haven't seen one since"

Harry relaxed a little at that comment. It sounded like the werewolf that Hagrid was talking about was his father's friend. He still had trouble with the concept of a friendly werewolf but if his parents were friends with him then who was he to judge?

Looking around, he saw that the girls were starting to look nervous at the thought of running into a werewolf. Ron... Harry cocked an eyebrow at him; he almost looked ready to faint. His brow quickly furrowed as he couldn't help but be reminded of his fear from the previous night. Fear that was caused by something that was (as he realised now) far less dangerous than a werewolf.

"Righ', listen closely now. What we're goin' to be doin' is serious work. I'm goin' ter need to split yeh up into two groups. Get the job done faster tha' way. So, yeh'll need ter work together in there; one person will need ter keep their wand lit at all times, an' I do mean _'at all times'. _The other will shoot up a flare with yer wand if yeh need too. A green flare, if yer find the unicorn; a red flare if yer need help. There's a lotta critters in there that yeh don't want ter be messing with while they're feedin'. If yeh leave them be, though, then they'll leave yeh alone."

"Okay... um..." Hagrid looked between the students in front of him for a moment before fixing on Tonks. "Righ' then, Lass, yeh and Mr Weasley can take Fang and go down tha' trail up the way there. Whatever yeh do, stay off the left-hand path at the fork. I don't want yer disturbing Aragog's rest; he's getting' a bit old yeh see and needs his beauty sleep. If yeh don't find anything within two hours, then make yer way back here.

"Harry, yeh and Miss Jones can come with me on the path down this way."

At that, Tonks fixed a determined expression on her face, lit her wand and started of towards the path Hagrid had shown her. Fang and Ron followed a moment later, both noticeably reluctant to enter the forest.

"Harry," Megan quietly called out to him, "I think we'd better use your wand for light."

Harry was about to reply with an uncharacteristic demand to know why, when he saw her looking very warily at the dark forest before them as she pulled her coat tightly around her. His unwanted emotion faded into the background as he realised that, after all her talk the previous day about facing one's fears, she must fears too, and it looked like she was afraid to go into the forest.

Looking down at his wand for a moment, Harry wondered if it would work properly this time. He had put a lot of practice into it, but he could still remember one of Flitwick's early lectures about how emotions could influence their ability to cast spells. What would happen if that angry feeling spiked again? Taking a quick, calming breath and squelching as much emotion as he could, he closed his eyes and cast his spell.

"Well, come on yeh two," Hagrid called for them as picked up his lantern and entered the forest.

A grin spread across Harry's face when he opened his eyes to see the perfect Lumos charm glowing on the tip of his wand, before he followed Hagrid into the forest, with Megan walking close beside him. He finally felt something positive about something that day. The grin quickly slipped from his face, though, when the light at the end of his wand began to flare. A few paces later, Harry managed to reign it in again and finally started to feel confident that he had this spell conquered.

Above him, unseen to all, a lone owl heaved a sigh of relief and followed the fledgeling into the forest. Twoo-twick had already had the misfortune of stumbling upon the nest of giant spiders and had no intention of ever willingly going back there again.

~oOo~

Albus leaned back in his chair as he once again contemplated the image of Sybil Trelawney which floated out of his pensieve. Around him, he could hear the various mutterings from the past headmasters and headmistresses as they discussed the wording amongst themselves. He had no fear from them of a breach in secrecy as each painting was bound my magic to obey him and his order that they mention it to nobody and to no other painting than those that were in this room.

While they debated amongst themselves over the use of plant-like metaphors for describing people and whom those people may be, Albus' mind was firmly fixed on the last stanza. War was coming again, he knew that and he was already preparing for it by arranging things so that he could take young Neville under his wing. What concerned him though was the mention of gods. He had never been a religious man, but he had since become well versed in the theologies of the ancient pantheons and how it was said to be Poseidon that had bestowed magic upon mankind.

What part would these long-dead gods have to play in the upcoming war? And, what was it that Neville Longbottom would have to do that even a _god_ wouldn't do?

"I still say you're barking up the wrong tree there, Albus."

Albus startled from his deep thoughts and turned to the new voice in the debate.

"Yes, Hat, you have said as such often enough that I am well aware of you opinion on prophecy."

"All I'm saying is that there's no point wasting time second-guessing what may or may not happen. Let the boy be who he is supposed to be." The sorting hat paused for a moment, before scowling at the headmaster, "And before you even think of it, I will not tell you what I saw in the-"

The ageing headmaster sat up in his chair as the sorting hat stiffened suddenly and various instruments around his office started wailing.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"We're... we're not exactly sure," the sorting hat hesitantly replied. "But the old girl is insisting that it came from the forest."

Albus' eyes widened slightly before he spun around to his familiar, who was already staring intently out towards the forest.

"Fawkes," he called out. "Fawkes, Hagrid has taken some students into the forest as part of a detention. Please, find them."

The majestic bird took one more look out towards the forest before disappearing in a burst of flame.

Not waiting for the phoenix to return, Albus started securing the castle before making his way down to the main entrance hall. Mysterious magic, powerful enough to trip wards, and coming from a forest filled with many dark and dangerous things could never mean anything good.

~oOo~

The three had been walking in the forest for nearly half an hour now, and Megan was beginning to wonder where this path was that Hagrid had told them about. It seemed to her that they had been walking in no particular direction ever since they had entered the forest. In fact, the only reason they were making any progress at all was because of Hagrid's ability to walk though anything shy of a tree trunk.

And, as if that wasn't bad enough, she couldn't get her heart to stop racing. It was silly. She knew that it was silly. She hadn't been afraid of the dark for years, but there was just something about walking around in this forest at night that spooked her. She couldn't help but feel like she was six years old again, and begging for her mother to not take her night light away.

Megan had asked for Harry to light his wand for a reason. She wasn't sure how he could do it, but he seemed to somehow be able to turn a simple Lumos charm into a small portable sun. If any of them could drive back the darkness that she felt suffocating her, it would be Harry. That was why she hadn't left his side since they had entered the forest, even when it meant that she had to fight her way through undergrowth.

They had finally stepped into a small clearing when a giant hand shot out in front of her, almost making her scream.

"Stop!" Hagrid whispered, as he peered into the night, "Get behind me." he quickly added in an urgent voice.

The two first-years wasted no time in crowding behind Hagrid's large back while the giant man placed his lantern on the ground and raised his crossbow, aiming it out in front of him. There was stillness for a while as the two children wondered what was happening. Eventually, a rustling of branches could be heard from the direction they had been walking towards.

"There is no need for your weapon, Old Friend."

Hagrid lowered his crossbow with an explosive exhalation. "Ronan. Yeh startled me half ter death there. What're yeh doin' creepin' around in the dark?"

"One could ask you the same question..."

The two kids peeked out from behind Hagrid at that moment and were greeted with their first look at a real, live centaur.

"...especially when bring two children with you."

"Well, there's been a unicorn injured somewhere in here and the kids are helpin' me find it."

The centaur shifted his intense stare from the two children to Hagrid for a moment. "A unicorn has been injured, you say?" it asked.

"Yeah, foun' some blood on the edge of the forest. We've were following it for a while now, but los' track of it 'bout five minutes ago. I'm hopin' tha' means the unicorn's at leas' stopped bleedin' now."

"I think that it would be best if you leave now, Hagrid," replied the centaur, as it drew a bow from behind it's back. "I fear that-"

Megan didn't get to find out what the centaur feared at that point, as Harry interrupted them with a yell.

"A flare! Hagrid, there's a flare."

"A flare?" Hagrid asked as he joined Harry in scanning the tree-line. "Where Harry?

Megan joined them, and a few heartbeats later she saw a red flare, rising above the tree-line. "Over there, Hagrid," she called out as she pointed it out.

Quickly grabbing his lantern, Hagrid took off running in the direction of the flare, calling out for the two of them to stay with Ronan.

All too quickly, Megan lost track of the bobbing light from Hagrid's lantern, leaving her standing in the small clearing with Harry, the light from Harry's wand, and the surprising presence well-armed, and rather out-of-place centaur. Looking at her companions, she saw that the centaur had already added an arrow to the bow in his hands and was now staring intently towards where Hagrid had disappeared. She wasn't sure if it a trick of the light from Harry's wand, or her imagination running wild, but she could have sworn that the centaur's eyes were flickering to Harry. After a few minutes of silence, Ronan finally spoke.

"You have very good sight, Harry Potter," he said, causing Megan to blink in surprise. She hadn't realised that even the centaurs had heard of Harry's family, let alone be able to recognise him.

"Well, Megan saw it too," the boy replied, rather self-consciously.

Megan had to admit though that Harry's forest-green eyes did look rather cool. She certainly wished she had eyes like that, not the almost black kind that hers were. Having Tonks' eyes would have be fun as well. The ability to change them to suit her whim, even if the older girl did insist that her abilities weren't as fun as people thought.

"Tell me, Harry Potter," Ronan continued, "what would you see, if you were to look at the night sky?"

Megan turned to stare incredulously at the centaur. What kind of a question was that? What did he expect to see in the night sky? A flying pig?

"Uh... stars?" replied a tentative Harry.

Ronan held Harry's eyes for a moment before once more returning to his silent watch. A few minutes later, Megan couldn't help herself and had to ask the one question that had been bothering her since she had seen the centaur.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

The centaur met her gaze for a moment and imperiously cocked an eyebrow causing her to fidget slightly under his scrutiny.

"I, I mean, Scotland isn't exactly centaur climate. Why are you so far from the Mediterranean?"

Ronan's expression softened slightly after a moment and he casually passed his gaze over the other Hufflepuff and turned back towards the trees. "My herd hasn't set hoof near the Mediterranean for well over one thousand years, young one. The stars demanded it, and so we accept it willingly." His left ear twitched slightly, and he quickly raised his bow. "Something approaches."

Much to Megan's relief, the centaur soon relaxed his hold on the bow and, looking for herself, she saw the tell-tail bobbing of a lantern approaching them, shortly followed by a rumbling sound that, as it got closer, turned out to be Hagrid speaking to someone. He didn't sound at all happy.

"... thing to do. Yer lucky I don' send yeh straight up ter Professor Dumbledore for pullin' a stunt like tha'."

Hagrid entered the clearing, followed by the other two students and rather skittish looking dog. Megan was curious about what had happened as it was clear that Tonks had gone and done something that Hagrid wasn't too pleased about, and if Weasley looked any more furious, she wouldn't be surprised if he burst a blood vessel.

"Righ' I think we'll have ter mix up the groups a bit," Hagrid said as he threw a glare towards Tonks. "The two girls will stay with me. Harry, there's a path, jus' down there. I want yer and Mr Weasley ter take that one with Fang, and then take a left at the fork. If yer don't find anything in an hour, then head back to me hut. We'll meet yer there."

Megan watched, helplessly, as Harry went off with Fang and Weasley, the later throwing him a scathing look. What if they needed Harry's wand-light? What about the darkness in the surrounding forest? Oh, Merlin, was there anything lurking in it, waiting for the them, for her, to stumble and fall when they couldn't see where they were going...

"Fear not, young one, I do believe your friend is not alone," a quiet voice whispered, startling her. Looking up she saw the centaur carefully watching a lone owl flying through the forest, obviously on a hunt. As soon as she registered just what Ronan had said, she felt a wave of shame come over her. She had been so worried about her own childhood fear that she had forgotten that Harry had just gone off, alone, into the darkness with someone who clearly did not like him.

Ronan's gentle hand turned her around towards Hagrid, who was still dressing down Tonks as the two walked out of the clearing and into the forest. "Come, I will join you tonight. There are things I wish to discuss with Hagrid."

With one last glance at the fading light of Harry's wand, Megan and Ronan set off into the night. Neither seeing (and only one hearing) the pair of centaurs that followed the two boys.

~oOo~

Harry and Ron had been walking for nearly half an hour and had not seen any traces of the unicorn they were supposed to be searching for. Not that they knew what to look for exactly. In fact the only thing that Harry knew about identifying unicorns was that they had a horn on their forehead and (as he had just recently learned) had blood that glowed in the moonlight.

He had tried to find out from Ron what had happened with Tonks, but the red-headed boy was being rather stubborn in not saying anything about it. The only things that he had been able to get the boy to say was along the lines of, _'Bloody Hufflepuffs'_.

He was about to make another attempt when Ron called out. "Oy, Potter. Shine the light over there."

Aiming his wand where the Gryffindor was pointing, he saw a small silvery glow on the ground. Unicorn blood. As the two boys neared it, they saw more glowing patches that seemed to intersect the path they were on. Ron continued to get a closer look, but something tweaked at Harry's senses and caused him to turn around.

"Oy, Potter, what're you doing? Bring the light back here!"

Harry continued to shine the light into the forest around him though. He was sure he had seen something there, but all he could see was a lone owl perched in a tree. Surrendering to the thought that maybe his imagination was getting the better of him, he moved up to Ron. The forest didn't exactly make him afraid, but there was something... _off_ around here.

"Sorry, I saw something move back there," he offered as way of apology.

"Bloody Hufflepuff," Ron muttered. "You'd be afraid of your own shadow, wouldn't you?"

"Hey! Hagrid said this was going to be dangerous work," Harry said as he crouched down to examine the trail of blood. "For all you know, it could have been a three-headed bear, or I don't know, a giant spider, or maybe even a killer rabbit."

After a few moments with no response from Ron, Harry looked up to see Ron shakily aiming his wand back to the patch of forest. He was also looking rather pale all of a sudden.

"You're not afraid of a bunny rabbit, are you?" he asked, jokingly.

"Of c-course not, I'm-ma-ma Gryffindor." the boy stuttered.

Harry's eyebrows shot up at the voice of the self-proclaimed _brave_ Gryffindor. He was well aware of the fact that he had fears of his own, but at least he was willing to admit that he had them. Mind you, if _he_ was afraid of rabbits, then he would probably be unwilling to admit it either.

"Come on," Harry said, "I think the trail goes this way."

All thoughts of levity left him as he kept his eyes on the trial of blood. There was something decidedly _wrong _here. So much so that he felt as though his whole body was becoming one tightly wound spring. A few yards further on, the blood trail became more pronounced and Harry began to fear that the poor creature was already dead.\

They continued on like this for a few minutes before Harry suddenly extinguished his wand.

"Hey, what're you doing," Ron hissed, "we were told to always have a wand lit!"

"Quiet, Ron!" Harry whispered harshly, "I, I think there's something up ahead. In that clearing." Harry's brows were furrowed, he couldn't see the clearing, but he just _knew_ that there was something there. Whatever it was though, this was the source of his uneasiness, and (quite surprisingly) that thought made him want to hit something.

"Well, all the more reason for us to be able to see then, isn't it!"

"Hush, Ron. Do you want whatever it is to know that we're here?" That simple question succeeded in quieting the Gryffindor and Harry began to creep towards the edge of the clearing, with only a single reluctant shadow following him.

When he reached the edge, he saw a sight that he would not soon forget. A unicorn was lying on its side in the moonlight, a pool of silvery liquid spreading out from it. Bent over its neck, there was a dark... _thing _that appeared to be lapping at the blood. A flurry of emotions raced though Harry, from awe at seeing such a beautiful animal, to incredible sadness that he had been too late to help it, to anger that something would willingly kill such a creature. The odd mix of emotions was making the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end and his heart pound in his chest.

Harry was vaguely aware of a shuffling noise beside him, but he paid it no heed, because he also saw something that all but froze time for him: the unicorn had just tried to free itself from the dark creature. It wasn't dead.

All emotions were washed away by a single dominant one, and at that time and Harry felt a tremendous rage course though him. Even the gentle feeling of music his wand gave off had changed and was felling more like an angry cry, a cry so intense that Harry would later swear that he could fell something within him explode in response.

Gripping his wand tightly, Harry sprung up and dashed into the clearing, yelling at the top of his lungs and waving his arms about.

"_GET AWAY FROM IT! LEAVE IT ALONE! BACK OFF!"_

The dark creature recoiled as if physically struck, a fact that, if he had been capable of rational thought at the time, would have greatly surprised Harry. Quickly gathering itself, the creature rose up, and Harry realised for the first time that the creature wasn't a creature at all, but was in fact a man.

"Harry Potter," the dark man greeted in a rasping voice. A voice sent a terrible chill down Harry's spine.

Harry was certain that he had heard it that voice before. Did he know this person?

"_Who are you?"_ he snarled at the man as he felt the ground start to tremor.

He never got his answer, as a great shadow rapidly descended upon him.

~oOo~

Firenze and Magorian relaxed as the young human child they had been following continued up to his companion.

Firenze was rather surprised at how instinctive the child was, but, if he was to believe what they had been told by the phoenix, then it had to be expected. There was still doubt amongst the herd that the child was in fact male and not female, there was little doubt that this was the one the phoenix had spoken of, even if the young owl that was following him had easily given him away. Firenze shook his head in disbelief again at that thought. What good was an _owl_ against something wishing to attack the child?

For the past three days, he (along with Ronan and Magorian) had been patrolling the forest, doing what he could to track down the taint that had encroached on their territory and the Treasure that they protected. It had come as a shock to him when he heard Hagrid mention an injured unicorn; not once in all his years had he ever heard of something successfully attacking one. That wasn't as much of a shock though as when the two children had stepped out from behind the half-giant. The fact that Hagrid would risk their safety in the forest at night had been very surprising.

At Ronan's silent command, they had followed the two boys whilst Ronan accompanied Hagrid and the two girls. As such, he and Magorian continued to follow them, as they followed the trail of blood. The sight of all the unicorn blood was making Magorian rather skittish to the point of drawing his bow. Firenze couldn't exactly blame him; he had already drawn his own bow two furlongs ago.

Up ahead, the child suddenly extinguished his light before having a whispered argument with his companion and creeping up to the edge of a clearing. Firenze had to resist a snort when he saw Fang stubbornly refuse to move any closer. The clearing itself made him feel very uneasy but as they circled around to get a better look, he couldn't help but gasp out in shock.

"By the Guardian! Magorian, look!"

The two centaurs stared in horror at the sight before them. Neither one able to fully put into words the feeling of complete wrongness with the scene in the clearing. One of the children quickly bolted from causing Magorian to have to chase after him, leaving Firenze to twitch his muscles as he felt a sudden explosion of... _something_ passed over his body.

The sound of the shouting broke him from his horror and (upon finally realising the danger) Firenze bolted from where he had been hiding and charged towards the clearing, overtaking the young owl that was also heading in the same direction. He took a running leap over the child and placed himself between the boy and the foul creature. Rearing up on his hind legs, he chased it from the clearing. Foolhardily, the owl took off in pursuit, but he was more interested in the safety of the child at the moment to concern himself with a fool of a bird.

"Help, please!"

Looking behind him, Firenze saw the the child kneeling in pool blood and pushing his neck wrapping upon the unicorns injury. He was slightly startled to see that the boy already knew something of tending wounds, but didn't stop to ask why.

"Please, we have to help it," the boy begged.

Firenze crouched down beside the mare's head and examined her injuries. She had already lost a lot of blood, and one look into her glazed eyes was enough to fill him with immense sorrow. With a heavy heart, he pulled at the boys hands.

"I am afraid that it is too late, young one. Come, we must to get you to safety."

Rising, he took the resisting boy and place him on his back. As he was about to head out of the clearing, a noise made him turn around. The mare was struggling to look up towards him so he bowed his torso lower, to allow her to speak. What he learned from the mare's dying words shocked him to his core. To his knowledge, such a thing had never before been said by a unicorn.

"Come, Harry Potter," he said absently, "we must depart."

After walking in silence for a few minutes, Firenze spoke again.

"When you return to your place of learning, you must give your coverings to Hagrid."

"My coverings? Huh? Oh, you mean my clothes? Why?" was the mumbled reply. Firenze didn't blame him for his sadness, seeing a unicorn die before him was not something he had wished to have happened to him within his lifetime, let alone were he to be as young as the boy on his lower back.

"The blood on your coverings can be very dangerous. Hagrid will know what to do to clean them."

"Oh."

There was silence for a while before the boy spoke again. "Why is the blood dangerous?"

Firenze stopped for a moment, then twisted his head around to see the. "Blood from any being can be used for a great many things, but the blood of a unicorn has the ability sustain someone for a long time, even if they are on the brink of death. It is a truly monstrous thing, to harm a unicorn, and any that take from a unicorn by force will always be given reason to regret their actions. Those that are willing to take the blood of a unicorn, to take the unicorn's life, would end up living a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches their lips."

The boy on his back bowed his head in thought for a moment, before looking back up, inquisitively. "But who would want to have such a life?"

"Unfortunately, there are many in this world who would be willing to do anything for power. Even the most dark and despicable actions imaginable."

Firenze caught the boy's eyes for a moment to stress the importance of his next words. "While a foolhardy action, you saved her from a fate that was far worse than death, and she was grateful. But you must be cautious, Harry Potter, for many creatures of the night are attracted to the bright light of a fire. Even now, the elders sense a great evil in your place of learning."

He could see that the child was a bit confused to begin with, but realisation slowly dawned upon him, causing the boy to shiver. "The mirror," he whispered.

"We do not know what the evil is," Firenze continued as he returned to his task of ferrying the boy to safety, "but if it is this mirror, then you must try to avoid it, if you can."

They continued the rest of the way in silence and soon enough they emerged next to Hagrid's hut, where the rest of the children were gathered around Hagrid and (surprisingly) Albus. Firenze placed the boy on the ground, where the aged wizard took one startled look at him and began cleaning him of the unicorn blood. Firenze gave him a grateful nod. At least that was one thing taken care of, he thought while he moved to converse with his companions and Hagrid, informing them of the dead unicorn.

"Do not be concerned, Hagrid," Ronan added, "we shall take care of the body of the unicorn."

With that simple remark, the three centaurs returned to the forest, with Firenze guiding them back to the clearing. Along the way, he explained what the unicorn had revealed to him.

"Surely you are not considering it," interjected Magorian when they came to the edge of the clearing and stopped to listen to the sad song of the now-present phoenix as it sung for the loss of the unicorn. "To even contemplate it would give reason for banishment from the herd."

Firenze stood in silent contemplation, before looking up at the stars. "The stars are becoming harder to read." he murmured.

Magorian let out a quiet snort, mindful of the mourning phoenix. "With all those clouds, I am not surprised."

"No," Ronan calmly stated, as he too looked to the sky with a frown on his face. "The stars are being hidden from us."

"What? What does that mean?" Magorian asked.

"I do not know. But I do know that there _is_ something about this boy. The phoenix was right, his presence is hidden from those of us who can see. Perhaps our ancestors misread the stars, and the child we are looking for is, in fact, _not_ a female."

"There is more," Firenze quietly added. He waited until the the others turned towards him before continuing. "When he confronted the foul creature, the boy did not speak in any tongue that I could recognise."

Ronan stared intently at Firenze for a moment before returning his thoughtful gaze towards the sky. Eventually he returned his eyes to Firenze. "I fear that we have run out of time. Do as the mare asks, but I must return to the other elders immediately. The time has arrived for the guardian to be awoken."

* * *

Gasp! The prophecy has changed! Well, you didn't expect me to keep the same one did you? I mean, it isn't at all compatible with a LoTR cross-over set during Harry's Hogwarts years. As for the full thing, it will be revelled. Just not yet. Besides, at this point I think Harry would be more interested in knowing why he was speaking in tongues to Voldemort than what a prophecy may or may not say.

About the centaurs: Feel free to let rip with the conspiracy theories (you never know, you may be right...) but I always questioned just why a Mediterranean-based mythical creature could be found in the fridged Scottish Highlands. Please tell me that I wasn't the only one here. Oh, also, if you want a visual on what I think these centaurs should look like, think more Chronicles of Narnia style, than Harry Potter style. Also, did anyone notice that there is more to these residents of the forest you first suspected? Or was I bit too subtle with the big flashing neon sign?


	15. Aftershocks

Hi-de-ho campers.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out, but the big earthquake we had here made me thing twice about the original direction of this chapter, as you can tell by the title. So I guess you can say that this chapter is dedicated to the Christchurch residents that were rattled around in the wee hours of that particular morning.

Some would say that the earthquake was an Act of God, but given that there were zero quake caused fatalities it makes me wonder if the Act of God was the quake itself, or the hundreds of near-death misses that people keep reporting; like the train driver who had no idea the quake was happening (you just don't notice things like that on trains) but still slammed on the breaks because of a problem with his lights... only to stop metres away from some serious track damage that would have derailed the train. (True story! Honest! I know someone who has the full story of that incident).

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Aftershocks**

_Every significant event leaves ripples throughout history. Things that nobody expected to occur but can all be tied back to the main event._

_In a disaster, it is often these ripples or 'aftershocks' that cause more damage than the main event. Nothing shows this better than an earthquake. For instance, did you know that in the Christchurch, NZ earthquake of 2010, there were approximately four hundred significant quakes in the span of two weeks following the main quake?_

_Another, less known, scenario is one that was postulated by Einstein, and has thankfully not happened yet. Einstein has been credited as saying that if the bees were to ever die off, then the people of the world could expect to only have four years left to live._

_Why? Aftershocks. One not so concerning event (i.e. the bees dying) would have after effects that could very well lead to a collapse of the entire global food-chain. It's enough to make one think twice about breaking out the insecticide._

~oOo~

Hedwig shook her head slightly as she flew out of the window, turning her back on yet another fight that Click-click-hoot had gotten into with the local residents of the Hogwarts owlery. When were they going to learn to not get on Click-click-hoot's nerves? Especially when said owl was tired.

Speaking of tired, Hedwig let out another owlish yawn as she zeroed in on one of the owl-entrances to the main hall. Even though she was a diurnal owl, she had still been up most of the night tracking the magic-user that Twoo-Twick had seen in the forest. The younger owl had managed to track the foul presence of the magic-user for quite a while, but had eventually been spotted and had to fall-back to the point where she had lost the trail.

It had taken all of them scouring the area to be able to get any indication on where the person had gone, and when they had tracked it back to the castle, Hedwig had to admit that she wasn't all that surprised. She knew she had been correct about there being something wrong with funny-smelling magic-user. Why he was allowed near so many fledgelings, she just could not fathom.

Finally reaching the entrance, she swooped inside and made a bee-line for her charge's human companions. He wasn't here yet, so it seemed that she would have to wait a moment before taking over the watch from Brill-hic. Who knew, she thought to herself after landing, perhaps she could... just rest... her... eyes... fo-

What was that? Hmmm. Ooh, that felt so gooood.

Hey! Wait a moment... was that? It was... that presence... it was HERE!

Reacting immediately, Hedwig's eyes snapped open and she lashed out at whatever it was that she was feeling on the side of her head. A startled cry later and Hedwig was blinking rather, er, _owlishly_ at the realisation that while that particular magic-user was close by, they weren't exactly _'here'_ here.

And that she had just tried to bite off a finger of one of the nearby fledgelings.

Um, oops?

~oOo~

Megan trudged towards the Great Hall with bleary eyes. She didn't know how much sleep she had gotten last night, but she could tell that it wasn't much.

After they had all finally gathered at Hagrid's hut, Hagrid had promptly hustled them all back up to the castle... all except for Harry. Professor Dumbledore (whom she had been very surprised to see there) had taken him off into the hut to talk to him. She didn't know what for, but she had a strong suspicion that it had something to do with why he had come out of the forest covered in glowing unicorn blood.

Hmm, perhaps he even knew what it was that had caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end and for Ronan to suddenly _demand_ that they leave the forest...

Megan mentally frowned to herself for a moment. The professor had been quick to remove the blood from Harry, and yet the centaur he had shown up with didn't seem all that phased by it. Even though Harry had gotten a great deal of it upon its back.

Shaking her head at the odd thought, she passed through the doors into the great cacophony that was widely referred to as breakfast and walked down the Hufflepuff table towards her year-mates. At least she had been able to ask Tonks what had happened between her and Weasley.

He-he-he, she chuckled to herself. Who would have thought that being a metamorphmagus would mean that you could fake a werewolf transformation?

Smirking slightly at the sight of Hedwig dozing in an empty spot on the table, she sat down and reached out to scratch her behind her crests. Her smirk turned into a full-blown grin as Hedwig turned her head into the scratching and let out a few pleased-sounding noises in her sleep.

"You like that, do you?"

She gave a few more scratches before she pulled her hand back with a startled yelp. Hedwig may have liked the scratching, but it seemed that she didn't like being woken up.

"Hey!" she admonished the bird that had just tried to bite her. "I'm rather attached to that finger!"

"Serves you right for waking her," Susan commented from across from her. Susan's slight grin faded as she looked around the table and it was soon replaced with a slight frown. "Hey, where's Harry?"

Megan glanced around as well and was surprised to see that Harry wasn't there. It was odd as he was normally the first one of them to show up at breakfast.

"Perhaps he's still sleeping?" she suggested. After all, they had gotten in rather late last night.

"Nah," Zach rebutted, "he's in the hospital wing."

"What?" Megan exclaimed as she snapped her head around to the boy in question.

What little colour she had drained from her face as she remembered the sight of him last night... covered in blood. Beside here, Hedwig quickly took flight. Though she had no proof, she was certain that the bird was heading towards the hospital wing, further solidifying her burgeoning theory that Hedwig was one very odd owl.

"Wizard's flu, we think," Ernie continued with a scrunched nose. "He woke us up vomiting all over the floor."

"Thank Merlin for house-elves," Zach finished, praising the little beings that had removed the horrible smelling mess from their dorm so they could go back to sleep.

Megan winced in sympathy. She had had a dose of wizard's flu last year and could attest to the fact that it was highly unpleasant. But still... she never had the vomiting. Resolving to check up on her friend, she pulled a couple of pieces of toast towards her. Perhaps she could also find out what had happened to him in the forest.

A memory from the other night struck her suddenly and she took up a thoughtful expression whilst she nibbled at the toast; where had she heard the name 'Flamel' before?

~oOo~

Poppy greedily inhaled the cup of Earl Grey that had just been delivered to her from the kitchens. On mornings like these, she was always acutely reminded that she was far from being able to consider herself a 'spring chicken' and thus a surge of caffeine was always greatly appreciated.

She had had her nose in her reference books for the past three hours, trying to find a reason for Harry's illness. Luckily, she had been able to recognise similar symptoms to what he had described to her over the Christmas break, when she had diagnosed him as suffering from Mó Liú Syndrome; something that he should never have come down with at all, given who his parents were.

Whilst she had never heard of it ever resurfacing in a child, she had been able to confirm that it had, in fact, resurfaced so had used what few of the ingredients she had left to produce another dose Jiāqiáng potion. It had helped somewhat, but unfortunately it was not enough to ease all of his current symptoms.

After placing an early morning floo call to an old friend at St Mungo's (in the hope of procuring some more of the rare ingredients) she had began pulling all the reference material she could on that particular ailment, and others of similar nature. Whilst she had rediscovered many pieces of highly useless information, she had yet to uncover anything that could actually help.

If that wasn't concerning enough, there was the fact that everything she could learn from her diagnostic spellwork was pointing to link between Harry's current ailment and that fiery globe that they would always show over his birth-mark. Especially when she noticed that, instead of a single fine silvery fracture which appeared only when he was working magic, there was now a fine spider-web of glowing fissures that spread out from that initial fracture. All of these were clearly visible, even when he was unconscious.

She had tried everything she could think of to identify what that globe was, or even what the silvery, or sometimes golden glow was, but she hadn't had any luck with that either. She had even followed an outrageous idea that it was some sort of block on the boy's magic; even if it was preposterous (he had, after all, been successfully wielding a wand for months). Thankfully, that had proven to be a dead end.

So far, all she had been able to determine was that it was either the glow that was triggering the ailment, or that it was the... damage?... to the fiery globe that was causing it. Either way, about the only thing she could do for him at the moment was to see if he could ride it out (at least until she had the ingredients to brew some more potion). As a healer, it was not a course of action that she liked taking.

A sudden gong sound brought Poppy back to the here and now, and a quick glance at the crystal ball on her desk showed the deputy head striding through her hospital wing, towards her office.

"What brings you here this early, Minerva?" she inquired when her friend crossed the threshold.

"Pomona just told me. How is he?"

"Now, Minerva, you know that I can't just-"

"I know, I know. But being the deputy head means that you can tell me some of it. You should know that even Pomona doesn't seem to be buying you story of wizard's flu."

Poppy regarded her friend for a moment. She was right; as deputy head, she was entitled to know the general story, particularly if there was something that may endanger others. But still, whatever she told Minerva may just find its way back to Albus. She would have to tread carefully.

"You would be correct with that line of thinking," she replied slowly, considering what she was saying as she went. "At first it looked similar to wizard's flu, but now I'm not so sure."

The wizards flu story had been a bit of quick thinking on her part. The symptoms (which were caused by powerful bursts of uncontrollable magic surging through a child's body) were similar, until you started with the diagnostic charms, and it was an easy story for children raised in the magical world to believe.

"I don't suppose it could be a curse, could it?"

Poppy blinked to herself and cast a puzzled look towards her friend. "What do you mean?"

"Something powerfully magical tripped one of the wards last night. From what Albus has told me, it came from somewhere in the forest. Young Harry was in the forest last night serving a detention under Hagrid's supervision-"

Poppy's eyebrows shot up at that statement. In the forest... at _night?_ Tripped the wards? She hadn't known about that.

"- it may be that he and his companions were affected somehow."

Poppy furrowed her brow back down in thought. Powerful magic... tripped wards... a mysterious ailment... were they all linked? Powerful... fiery globe... broken?... keeping something out or maybe keeping something in? Hmm, perhaps there was something to all of this.

_'That prophecy of Dumbledore's, about the special child? Well... it's Harry.'_

Those were Lily's words to her, but they were words that she believed more and more each time she saw him. Could it have been? Was it even possible? Had _Harry_ tripped the wards? She'd needed more information, but she couldn't just ask Minerva or Albus for it...

"You said there were others?" she eventually asked.

"Yes, three others, plus Hagrid."

And yet only Harry was in a hospital bed...

"I'd like to see the others in here as soon as possible. Just to make sure, of course."

And to find out what happened out there...

~oOo~

By the end of the day, Poppy had managed to wrangle little pieces of information out of the other people involved in the late-night trek through the forest; everything from jumpy centaurs through to werewolves (to which she had given Nymphadora a very stern telling off) and dark beings feasting on unicorn blood.

Nothing really shed any more light on what was happening with Harry, but there was sufficient information to indicate that Harry had been in an encounter with that dark being. Whatever it was would have to wait until he recovered.

That time turned out to be two days later. However, while the final symptoms of his ailment had passed as he rested, the fractures in the globe had still remained. It seemed to Poppy that whatever had happened had been permanent. She could only hope that that was a good thing and not a bad one.

While discussing what had happened in the forest with Harry, she had been told as much as what he had told Albus. While it wasn't conclusive, she had enough to realise that it may well have been Harry that had tripped the wards and that that globe of his must have been damaged at the same time. Two questions answered, but a whole lot more of them asked.

She had eventually discharged him from her care with an admonition for him to return if there were any reoccurrences of the symptoms he had shown. Unfortunately she didn't know of one key symptom that he had yet to tell anyone. A symptom that was about to become much worse for him as the weeks passed by.

~oOo~

"_It's coming your way!"_

"_Got it!"_

"_Watch out!"_

"_My God, that thing smells worse than week old socks"_

"_What do you think you're _doing_?"_

"_There was only enough for one"_

"_Why are you down here?"_

"_What do you see?"_

"_Harry Potter."_

"Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter."

"Mr Potter!"

"_Harry!_"

Harry jumped as Steven Cornfoot hissed in his ear and jabbed him in the side of his ribs with an elbow. Harry threw the boy an irritated look, but Steven just motioned towards the front of the classroom. Confused, Harry looked to the front of the classroom to find Professor Fraser, the substitute Herbology professor staring at him.

"I am most pleased that you saw fit to grace us with your attention, Mr Potter. Now, perhaps you would like to answer the question?"

Harry sat there for a few seconds with his mouth ajar. There was a spattering of snickers from the other side of the room as Harry realised that he had no idea what the question was. Slumping back in his seat, he finally spoke up.

"Sorry, Professor, but I didn't hear the question."

The professor didn't look too pleased with that answer. "Ten points from Hufflepuff, for not paying attention, Mr Potter. I won't tolerate that sort of behaviour in my classes and I'm fairly certain that Professor Sprout doesn't either. Now many of you may think that Herbology is a simple, boring subject, but you will learn, soon enough, just how dangerous it can be, and how important these theory sessions really are.

"Now then, Miss Granger, how would you answer the question?"

"According to One Thousand and One Magical Herbs and Fungi; If the Tibetan Solarius Fern doesn't get at least five hours of direct sunlight each day, then the the flowers will loose pigmentation and toxins will build up, causing them to become poisonous and therefore no good for use in potions."

"Very good answer, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor."

"So, as you can tell the planting locations of Solarius ferns is very important. If you take a look up on the board..."

Harry joined the rest of the class in his note-taking, scribbling rapidly so that he could catch up on what he missed during his daydreaming, all the while not noticing the eyes that were frowning at his back.

He had been having trouble paying attention ever since he sat down in his chair this afternoon. It wasn't that he didn't like the theory sessions for Herbology, in fact he found that they could sometime be rather fascinating. It was just that Professor Fraser (the substitute professor that Professor Sprout had arranged) spoke with a soft, lilting voice which, when combined with the warmth of the late-spring sun filtering in through the windows, was enough to make him feel rather sleepy and start daydreaming. The only consolation that he had at the moment was that Professor Sprout was due back from her trip to Canada that weekend, so this was hopefully the last lesson where he had to fight the need to drift off.

The subject of Professor Sprout's unexpected disappearance had been a topic of much gossip in the castle. Even so, Hannah's reasoning of it being because of something to do with the North American bees had stumped many with disbelief. It had taken Susan Bones (whose father actually worked for Hannah's parents in the magical plant industry) emphatically confirming this story before anyone would actually consider believing it. Even so, Harry had to admit that it did make a certain amount of sense. After all, bees were needed to pollinate many different types of plants.

When the bell finally rang to signal the end of class, Harry gathered up his books and notes and made for the exit. He didn't make it far before someone sidled up beside him.

"Are you okay, Harry? You looked rather far away back there."

"I'm fine, Hannah. I guess I just shouldn't sit in the sun on a warm afternoon."

Hannah didn't look too convinced though. "Perhaps you should go see Madam Pomfrey. You never know, you might be coming down with something. A relapse of wizard's flu, perhaps."

"Hannah, I'm fine, okay? I was just daydreaming when I shouldn't have been."

"Daydreaming? About what?"

Harry stopped walking suddenly, causing Hannah to take an extra couple of steps before she realised he had stopped. He stood there with his head cocked to his side in confused thought.

"I... don't exactly know."

Going by her worried expression, Harry could tell that that seemed to be the wrong thing to say to Hannah, so he hastened to explain.

"It was like... I don't know. Have you ever been in a room where there's a lot of people talking?" Hannah nodded. "It was kind of like that, all these people were saying different things, and it didn't make any sense."

"Well... that doesn't sound like any daydream I've ever heard off," Hannah said slowly.

"Great." Harry ran a frustrated hand through his head and started walking again.

This hadn't been the first time this had happened to him in class and he was beginning to get concerned about it. So far he had managed to keep it to himself, but even he had noticed that his marks were starting to slip. Especially in the harder subjects, like Transfiguration. No matter how hard he had pushed himself to concentrate, or to catch up, it seemed to be happening more and more frequently.

Then there was that dream that kept popping up. Firenze's words about evil in the castle... the mirror... fire... screams..._ death_.

Hannah picked up the pace beside him, casting him worried glances every now and then. Eventually the silence got to her. "Harry?" Still Harry remained silent. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"I don't know, okay!" Harry snapped, before stopping again and closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hannah. It's just so... _confusing_. Ever since that night in the forest, I been, I don't know okay? I just drift off, I guess. It's just... doesn't make any sense."

Hannah stood there for a moment as though she was trying to decide something. He could tell that she obviously reached a decision because she grabbed him firmly by the arm and towing him rapidly down a side corridor.

"Um, Hannah, where are you taking me?"

It was a few moments before Hannah responded. "You may have noticed that I get a bit wound up sometimes."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Hannah threw him a dark glare strong enough to cause him to wince and apologise. Harry couldn't help but think that maybe there were some detrimental side-effects from spending too much time around Tonks. Most prominently: saying things without thinking.

"Well, anyway, it's because I was home-schooled with Susan before I came here. Susan's lucky in that learning things comes easy to her but I kind of get overwhelmed with it all from time to time. I got cornered one day by one of the prefects, Samantha, and she dragged me away from my homework and took me somewhere to unwind a- Ah, here we are."

They had arrived at a heavy wooden door located at the end of a corridor that Harry was sure he had never been in before. Hannah struggled with the door a bit, so Harry put his bag down and helped her open it before they stepped out onto what appeared to be the battlements that ran down one side of the castle. Harry moved out into the light and looked out at the view. He could clearly see all the way down to the Forbidden Forest, on his left; and out across the lake to Hogsmeade, on his right.

Harry took a deep breath of the crisp air. It really was quite...

_...crazy. This was crazy! Why was he even contemplating it?_

_He took another look over the edge, towards the forest. If he wanted to get there first then he needed every advantage he could get. He could do this... he could... it was just... well, bloody bonkers!_

"_Just remember to never skydive without a parachute," he murmured to himself before he adjusted his glasses and started running towards the edge, wand in hand._

_One leap up onto the ledge and another one forwards sent him sailing over the edge. There, he'd done it... and _wow_, was this an adrenaline rush, or what? Rapidly remembering that he was currently plummeting to his doom, he jerked his body around..._

... and around he rolled before he came to a stop, staring up at the sky with Hannah sitting on top of him. Before he could wonder how he had ended up like this, Hannah began to pound her fists on his chest.

"What the bloody hell do you think you doing?" she screamed at him. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?"

Killed? What? Harry's mind frantically tried to work out what was going on, but kept coming up short. And damn, that girl knew how to hit!

"What? What happened?"

Hannah paused in her violence in order to look down incredulously at her friend for a second. Snapping an arm out to point away from the castle, she told him, "You tried to jump over the edge!"

Harry stared at her, in shock. He tried to _what?_ No... he _had_, hadn't he? But? No... _what_? What was going on? He watched silently as Hannah stood up and turned her back towards him and hugged her arms to herself.

"What's happening to you, Harry?" she begged.

"I, I don't know," he admitted as he sat up.

And he didn't know. He didn't understand any of it. Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't he be just like every one else?

His answer hadn't been what Hannah had been wanting to hear, he could tell, even though she had her back towards him. He knew that it was because she didn't want him to see her cry (and he felt like an utter cad that he was making her do so), but it still stung him to have a friend turn their back on him.

Deep down, he didn't want her to do that.

So he told her. He told her everything. The the jumping off the castle, the voices, the dreams, the mirror, the snowball fight, the knowing things he shouldn't. All of it. As much as he could remember.

"Why is this happening to me?" he plaintively asked when he was done.

Hannah, who by this stage had taken a seat next to him, was frowning in thought. "I, I think... well, maybe..." she broke off with a slight growl as she tilted her head back to look up at the clouds. A moment later, her expression cleared and she asked a question that Harry wasn't expecting at all.

"How to muggles know when it's going to rain?"

"_What?_"

"How to muggles know when it's going to rain?" she asked as again as she turned to him.

"Well... they listen to the weatherman, I guess."

"And how does he know?"

"I... I don't actually know. I mean, I know there are maps and stuff. With arrows and clouds and shapes and things, but I don't know how it all works."

"Oh. Well. In the wizarding world, there aren't any maps, or arrow or shapes. There's just our equivalent of the weatherman. He just _knows_ what the weather is going to do."

"Huh?" turned to his friend, with a thoroughly perplexed expression.

"There are some people," she tried to explain, "who can use magic to know certain things, we call it divination. One person may know what the weather is going to do, another may know where the best place to fish is, and another may know which tree will bare the most fruit. They can just _know_ things. I... I think you maybe doing something similar."

"What? Like knowing the future?"

Damn. Hey, did that mean he was going to jump of the castle?

"Maybe. Ugh, I don't know, Harry. But you need to talk about it to a professor or someone. _Before_ your try to jump off the castle again!"

They sat in silence as they both thought about what had been said. Maybe she had a point, Harry mused to himself.

"Come on," Hannah said eventually, "it's got to be almost dinner time by now."

~oOo~

Harry did eventually end up talking to Madam Pomfrey about what Hannah had told him. To say that Poppy had been shocked about what he had kept to himself would be an understatement. She had also been somewhat dismayed as it added yet another unwanted variable in her search for finding out exactly had happened to Harry during his trip through the forest.

Also, for all she knew, this was part of the prophecy and thus something that she needed to keep hidden from Albus, as per her oath.

On that note, she spent some of her personal time browsing through Flourish and Blotts for some suitable books for him to read. Hopefully they could work out how to either curtail or control these outbursts before he tried jumping off any more tall buildings.

Many times, Hannah would stumble upon Harry reading these books in that little part of the castle that she had claimed for herself. She didn't mind that Harry was there, except for when he was by himself. Each time she saw him there she kept imagining what it would be like to look over the edge and see her friend splattered upon the courtyard below.

~oOo~

"Ugh, only one more class to go," Hannah groaned as she leaned her back against the wall outside the DADA classroom. "I swear, my brain's about to explode."

"It's not really that difficult, you know," commented the boy across from her, "All you need to do is to start revising earlier. I started back in April, myself."

Hannah threw the boy a dark glare. Trust a ravenclaw to start revising for their end-of-year exams before they had even finished learning what it was they were supposed to be revising. She really didn't need to hear comments like that at the moment. Not only was she struggling with all the revision, but the cramps were starting up again. She would need to make a visit to the Hospital Wing for another potion after this class.

The ravenclaw was saved from being snapped at by the arrival of Professor Quirrell. "T-t-terribly s-orry there. I was ju-ust in a meeting w-with an former co-coleague."

Hannah inwardly groaned as they entered and took their seats. It was the last official class of the year for the first-year hufflepuffs and they had to spend it trying to understand someone who could barely speak two words with out either stuttering or jumping at the sight of Hedwig, who seemed to like following Harry to this particular class.

She snorted to herself as she idly took out her class books. Lately Professor Quirrell had been especially jumpy around the hufflepuff first-years, of all people. The big bad Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher seemed to be scared of eleven and twelve year-olds, especially... Hannah paused in laying out her quill. Was it just her imagination, or was Professor Quirrell especially jumpy around a certain friend of hers?

"B-books away, now. I t-thought that w-we might... h-ha-ve some fun today," Professor Quirrell stammered.

Whatever the fun was, Hannah could only hope that it was more enjoyable than sitting through another of his murderous revision lectures. Even if the professor didn't seem to be looking forward to whatever activity he had planned. There was a general rumble of curiosity as everyone put their books back into their book bags.

"Ss-ince it is your your l-ast class, I thought that you you could get in-in-into pairs and have a pa-pa-par-ractice at some of the c-counter-jinxes you have learned this-is year. Now, h-every one move t-to the side there, w-while I c-c-clear the desks awa-way."

The hufflepuffs and ravenclaws moved to stand next to the wall that was indicate to them and they watched as the Quirrell deftly moved the desks to the back of the room. Hannah couldn't help but wonder how it was that a man that was so easily spooked could have such a control of his wand. She figured that it had to help that she had never heard him enunciate a spell before. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall had both been very clear on the need to speak the spell clearly when learning it and couldn't help but wonder how Professor Quirrell had ever been able to learn with his stutter.

What followed, for Hannah, proved to be rather enjoyable, if incredibly chaotic.

They had been able to form their own pairs and were given free range to practice any of a number of particular jinxes and counter-jinxes that they had been taught. Given the size of the room that they were using, it was inevitable that they all got into each other's way, which resulted in some fairly interesting spell combinations. Terry Boot, in particular, ended up in a rather precarious situation when he was hit by a twitchy ears jinx, a jelly-legs jinx and a tickling jinx all at the same time. The boy had been floundering around on the floor for a good minute before those around him realised that he and his partner needed help to remove the jinxes. Not that she was particularly inclined to help in that case, after all he had been the one that was annoying her while they were waiting in the corridor.

Surprisingly enough for Hannah, the two hours of chaos and mayhem had turned out to be a very good thing for her. Even though she awoke the following Monday feeling that her body was rebelling against her just at the mere prospect of having to sit exams. Still, she managed to make it though the initial exams with the enjoyable memories of a stuck-up, big-mouthed, jinxed ravenclaw, rolling around on the floor... well, that and a handy little potion that Madam Pomfrey had her to take a spoonful of, each morning for one week out of each month.

Before she knew it, the week was winding down, and with it their last exam. The only thing left was their Charms practical.

"Relax, Hannah, it can't be that hard," Susan said to the girl whilst the first-years were waiting outside Professor Flitwick's classroom.

"But, you saw the exam he wrote. It was the longest one we had! If he could come up with a written portion that large, just think about what he's going to make us do in there."

Susan grabbed Hannah's hands which had appeared to have declared their own private battle to the death with each other. "Hannah," she said quietly as she stared her worrying friend in the eye, "you will be fine. It'll be just like it was during classes."

"Just remember to breath," she jokingly added.

It didn't seem to help though as Hannah's eyes all but popped out of her head at the possibility of forgetting to breath. Susan never got a chance to retract her last piece of advise because Professor Flitwick chose that exact moment to announce that the practical examination had now began, and that Hannah, with a surname of 'Abbot', was up first.

Hannah entered the charms class room and moved to stand by the table in the middle as Flitwick closed the door. Once the door was closed with no chance of others overhearing them, Flitwick joined the nervous girl, climbed up on a chair so he could was closer to eye-level and picked up a clipboard.

"Breath, just breath," the girl mumbled to herself as she took in great gulps of air.

"Okay, Miss Abbot," the professor squeaked, causing Hannah to jump, "this is just a simple test to see if you are able to remember and perform a number of charms that you learned during the year. Now, we will need... oh my, where is... ah, that will do."

With a flick of the professor's wand, a banana sailed over from the Professor Flitwick's desk and landed on the table in front of Hannah, where it promptly changed into a large stuffed-toy.

"To begin with I want you to make this toy mouse here float at least two feet off the desk, if you will."

Hannah felt a rush of relief, she remembered this one. With a swish and a flick of her wrist, and a surprisingly confident _'Wingardium Leviosa',_ she began to levitated the toy mouse into the air. Unfortunately, her nervousness rebelled on her at the wrong time and she not only cleared the two feet, but ended up sending the stuffed mouse crashing into the ceiling.

"Oh my, bonus points for height on that one, Miss Abbott," Flitwick called out excitedly, doing much to solidify Hannah's confidence that she may actually succeed in doing this, despite her current jumpiness.

For the next five minutes, Professor Flitwick had Hannah abuse poor the poor toy by making dance, roll and bounce around the table whilst cycling it though various colours. Hannah was quiet please with herself in the end, as aside from that one incident of trying to launch the mouse into low earth orbit (a mistake that Professor Flitwick seemed to think was good enough for bonus points), she had only made one other mistake.

She had just finished rolling the toy down the length of the table and back, and was about to change the colour of its fur again, when she missed on her wand aim. Instead of changing the colour of the toy, she accidentally turned Professor Flitwick's robes from light blue to hot pink. A colour she thought he looked surprisingly good in (not that she mentioned it though).

Finally, after one last charm to return the toy to its original colour, Hannah was released with the strict instructions to not talk to anybody about what she had been required to do until the others had been through their practical as well. So instead of remaining with her friends and tempting fate, she chose to wait for them outside in the sun while they were being tested.

It turned out that choosing to wait outside wasn't completely uneventful, once others also decided to do the same.

She had just spotted Harry walking over to join a group of the boys that were down by the lake when she heard arguing voices drifting across the field. Turning towards the voices, she saw Longbottom and Granger walking up towards the castle from Mr Hagrid's hut.

"But, Neville, if we tell Professor McGonagall then she can tell Professor Dumbledore."

"Hermione! I already told you, Professor Dumbledore hasn't been here all week. There's an ICW conference happening in Italy. My Gran is there as well; she's part of the group that went from the Wizengamot. If Snape wanted to go for the stone then now is his best chance."

"Well, Professor McGonagall should be able to stop him then."

"Do you really think that McGonagall could stop Snape? Gran says that he used to be a Death Eater-"

There was a gasp from behind Hannah, causing her to turn. It seemed that she wasn't the only one who had heard the arguing Gryffindors.

"Professor Snape was a _Death Eater?_" Susan whispered in shock. "What's a _Death Eater_ doing teaching in a school? Why isn't he locked up?"

"Don't know," said Megan as she joined the gossip. "My mum always said that Death Eaters were idiots. If he could avoid getting locked up, then I don't think he could be classed as an idiot."

The other two girls stared at her incredulously.

"Is your mum _insane?_ The Death Eaters were killers," Hannah whispered harshly.

Megan shrugged her shoulders. "She probably is. I mean, one can only survive so many hits from a bludger."

Hannah rolled her eyes at the quidditch comment and turned back to the two Gryffindors. All her dorm-mates had learned about Megan's dislike for quidditch within the first week of school. An unexpected turn of events, given who her mother was.

"... still not sure about it, Neville. I mean, the protections have to have been designed to be able to stop dark wizards, and you expect _us_ to be able to get through them?"

"We have to, Hermione. It's the only way to stop the stone from falling into the wrong hands. If we get to it first, then we know it's going to be safe. Besides, you're the brightest witch in the school; if anyone can work out a way though the protections, you can."

"Well... I can try."

"Those _stupid_ gryffindors..." groaned Megan.

The secret of the philosopher's stone hadn't remained a secret for long once Megan had remembered where she had heard the name Flamel before. But still, it wasn't like they went around telling everyone about it.

"... Not only are they standing out in the open, blabbing about something that is supposed to be a _secret_, but they honestly think that they can protect the stone by _stealing_ it?"

"Fluffy's going to chew them up like a bone," added Susan.

"We need to tell Professor Sprout," Hannah declared.


	16. The Call

**A/N:** I'm shocked, stunned, amazed... Nobody picked up on the guest appearance in the last chapter. You know, the mouse that used to be a banana? Come on, somebody... anybody? It was Dinglemouse; from Bad Jelly the Witch (another British story about magic and children, by Spike Milligan). I don't know; kids these days...

* * *

**Chapter 15 – The Call**

_It could be a whisper, a word, a cry or a roar; but (as mentioned earlier) each hero that has ever lived has received a call, and each hero has answered it, fulfilling whatever need that was required of them._

_It is important to note that the hero isn't always the one that rushes in to save the princess from the dragon. Likewise, not all who hear the call will answer it and, in not doing so, will miss out on becoming heroes in their own right._

_One thing is certain, though, for those that answer the call to step up and become heroes: the experience changes them. It matures them, scars them, changes them in ways they could never have foreseen._

_No mater whether they slay a dragon or just bring aid to the ill, they will never be the same again._

~oOo~

In the weeks when followed the day that Hannah had dragged him up to the castle's battlements, Harry had read many books on Divination in his quest to understand what was happening to him, and how to control it.

He had begun with the three books that Madam Pomfrey had given to him (an early birthday present, she had claimed) but had soon found himself browsing the Hogwarts library in an effort to understand just what it was that those three books were saying. All in all, he devoured nearly a dozen books, taken a decent bite or two from more than a dozen others and had had a fair nibble on even more books than he could keep track of.

And what was the grand result of his surprisingly rapid digestion of so much information? He was confused to the point of not being able to work out if Divination was 'proper' branch of magic, or if it was like Astronomy (a subject that just happened to be taught at Hogwarts but which he couldn't see any practical application to magic).

Oh, he was more than willing to believe that there were people out there who were able to use magic and spells to know what the weather was going to do, or where to fish; just like Hannah had mentioned. He just wished that at least one of those people had written a book about it! So far, he had only been able to uncover one fact that each book seemed to agree upon: you needed a clear mind in order to 'focus on the mystical forces'. But did any of those books mention exactly _how_ one could do this?

_No!_

As for anything else that may have been useful? For each fact that he found in a book, he could easily find three other books that would discredit it. How was anybody supposed to learn about this if the so-called experts couldn't even agree with one other?

In the end, Harry had taken the only solid fact that he had found and had begun a quest for a spell to clear his mind. Again, this turned out to be a nearly-fruitless exercise; only for much different reasons. It turned out, you see, that all the useful-sounding books on such magic that could be used on a person's mind were locked up in the restricted section of the library. He hadn't realised just how dangerous using spells on one's mind could be.

He had just started looking for something else, perhaps a potion (his growing inner hufflepuff just didn't want to let him give up), when the answer came from a most unexpected source. He had just slammed another potion book closed in frustration, when a timid voice asked him if he needed any help finding something. Turning to the source of the voice, he was puzzled to see a young asian girl that looked rather familiar.

It took a moment or two to recognise her as Su Li, the quiet girl from Ravenclaw whom always sat off to the side in class. In fact she was so quiet during classes that he couldn't help but marvel at the fact that this had been the first time that he had heard her speak; to anyone (which also raised the question in his mind about how loud did you need to be when saying a spell).

Realising that she may just know where to look to find his answer (she _was_ in Ravenclaw, after all), he asked her about where he could find some magic that can be used by someone to clear their mind.

She had just stood there, staring at him in mild confusion for a few moments before politely replying and walking away. "Meditation usually works," she had said.

Harry had been stunned. It was a simple answer. It was a logical answer. It was an answer that _he already knew!_

You see, Dudley and his friends had gone though a Kung-Fu film faze a year or so ago. From what young Harry had managed to see of those films, the old teacher was invariably telling the hero that his mind was too cluttered and that he should mediate. All this time, Harry had been searching for a magical answer when a non-magical one would work. A non-magical one that he already knew about!

With a groan, he had let his head fall forward to thump repeatedly on the closed book before him... only to be quickly thrown out of the library when Madam Pince turned the corner and saw how he was treating her books.

Harry swore to himself then and there that he would never let the prospect of a magical solution get in the way of a non-magical one, _especially_ one that he already knew.

Over the next few days, Harry tried to meditate just like he had seen on the telly, only to fail quite spectacularly. It seemed that every time he tried to meditate, his brain would go off on a crazy tangent and begin turning over the most seemingly useless thing imaginable; most noticeably quidditch. Why Patterson, the seventh-year prefect, had to prattle on with his continual bizarre questions about quidditch, Harry would never know.

The problem Harry was having was that even though he knew what it looked like when someone was meditating, he actually had no idea what they were doing.

In a bout of frustration, he had tracked down Su Li a week later, who was once again in the library where she revising for their end of year examinations which where... _two months _away? Hmm, he had thought at the time, when _was _that the right time to start revising?

After a short conversation in which Harry had given a rather vague reason for his need, Su had agreed to teach him some basic meditation. A task that had taken a lot more time that he had expected it would, even given his initial troubles.

Now don't get take that the wrong way. Harry was very grateful for these rather tedious lessons as after only a week he was already showing some very positive results in reigning in his weird future-seeing-imaginationy-thing. He had also been rather pleased when he was eventually able to sit through a whole day of classes again without drifting off to the middle of nowhere or getting distracted by voices that weren't actually there. By the time the end of the school-year rolled around, he was confident that he finally had this rather disconcerting ability of his under control.

It is therefore understandable that on the evening of the day of their Charms exam, he found himself to be suitably confused and more than a little bit spooked when the unexpected happened.

~oOo~

The end of examinations marked the closing of an important chapter in the lives of the first-year students at Hogwarts. Throughout the castle there was jubilation at the thought of surviving the first year of magical education, with each house celebrating in their own fashion.

Hufflepuff House was no different in this fact. However, given that particular house's reputation for consideration, their jubilation was kept to a warded-off portion of their common room which prevented them from disturbing the fifth through seventh year students, who still had a week to go before their examinations would be complete. It was in this portion of the common room where Megan, Hannah and Harry had been sitting, having been taught how to play a muggle card game by Justin.

"I think that's me for the night," said Justin as he failed to desperately to fight off a yawn.

"One more game. Please?" begged Hannah.

"You've still got three players," he replied as he stood up, "That's enough to play."

Megan, who had never played the game before, couldn't see how playing Last Card with just three people would work so quickly scanned the crowd to see if she could spot any other people around her that she knew and was raised in the muggle world. Never before had she realised that a simple muggle game could be so addictive. Finally she spotted a head of black and yellow hair weaving its way towards the girl's dormitory.

"Hey, Tonks!" she called out.

The girl in question stopped and looked around those in the common room, trying to find who had called her. Seeing Megan waving her over, she moved to investigate.

"What's up?"

"Do you know how to play Last Card?"

The older girl blinked at her. "Last Card?"

"Yeah, the game. Justin just went to bed, and I was looking for someone to sit in for him."

Hannah nodded her head in agreement as the Tonks stared at them in slight bewilderment before roving her eyes over the table and the players around it.

"I don't know, I think you might have lost another player too," she said as she cocked her head slightly

Megan followed the girls gaze with a confused frown and spotted Harry staring at a pare of cards in his hand.

"Harry?"

There was no answer.

"Harry, are you awake there?" Hannah asked as she waved her hand in front of his face.

The boy suddenly moved, making Hannah jump in her seat. He was now facing the common room door, and Megan could see that his eyes were looking somewhat worried.

"No," Harry murmured so quietly that only Hannah heard him, before he suddenly launched himself from his seat and took of towards the common room door.

Hannah and Megan sat there for a few moments, both of them in shock over her friends sudden odd behaviour. However, Hannah's expression quickly turned to to panic when she remembered the last time she had seen Harry with a blank expression like that. It had been only moments later when she had had to stop him from jumping from the castle's battlements.

She shared a quick glance with Megan before she them took off after him, with her friend hot on her heals.

"Oy, curfew is in ten minutes!" yelled Tonks as she she watched in confusion at the three first-years dashing out the door.

Shaking her head tiredly, she turned back towards her dorm room. Professor Sprout's detentions had been getting worse as the year drew to a close. She never realised just how much work needed to be done in the greenhouses at the end of the year. It also hadn't helped that Sprout had left her to do all the work by herself tonight.

~oOo~

Cartomancy, also known as the art of using playing cards for divination, had been one of many divination techniques that Harry had read about in the past few months. It was also one of the first ones that had been discredited by most of the books that he had read.

Each one had a slightly different argument, but each one was rooted in the common principle that the interpretation of the cards was too easily changed to be considered a trust-worthy method of divination; unlike Tarot reading, where each card had set meanings. As such, Harry had paid the technique even less attention than any other others.

He would soon discover that this was, in fact, what made Cartomancy so potent.

~oOo~

Harry had waved goodnight to Justin and soon set about picking up the cards so they could be be dealt again. He had almost collected them all when something caught his eye. A pair of cards that were still on the table were lying face up and they tugged at something in his mind.

Blinking in confusion, he placed the rest of the deck back on the table and picked up the pair: the Queen of Hearts and the Knave of Spades. Something about these cards was... off.

_Blood. Dripping white, dripping red._

Harry frowned. _White _blood? Why did queen card remind him of blood? Sure, it was the Queen of Hearts, and hearts pumped blood, but... it seemed like there was...

"_Step aside"_

"_I will not let you go any further."_

"_Fool, you cannot stop me."_

Where had he heard that before? Was this real or just his imagination?

_Lights._

_Red, green, blue, silver, purple red, blue, mauve; accompanied by a cacophony of noise._

_Thump._

_A body bounced off a wall and fell to the floor, into a large puddle of blood, by a great shadow._

Where did he know these people from? Why was he thinking these things?

_Short._

_A bit dumpy looking._

_Flyaway hair._

_Blank eyes that usually held so much cheer and kindness._

_Professor Sprout._

Harry froze at that revelation. What had happened? Was this... was that... had that been the future? Or... what if... what if it wasn't?

Were was Professor Sprout going to be tonight? Was she hurt? Where had all that blood come from? Was she...

Harry snapped his head to the common room entrance. He began feeling a bit light-headed at the mental image of her blank eyes. Was she... was she... _dead_?

"No," he murmured as he sprung from his seat.

Imagination or not, future or not, he needed to know. He couldn't just pass it off as if she could be lying hurt... or worse.

Racing out of the common room he hung a left an sped down the corridor, heading towards the nearest staircase. Professor Sprout's office was one floor above them, close to where she held her theory lectures.

With each step that Harry took, a sense of urgency grew in him. A feeling that he needed to hurry, that something bad was going to happen unless someone intervened.

Taking the stairs three at a time, he grabbed the railing at the top and hauled himself around the corner. Racing down the Professor's corridor, he saw her office door in the distance. Even when running as fast as he was, it felt like the door was taking forever to get any closer.

Finally reaching his destination, he raised his hand to pound on the door, only for it to swing open on the first knock.

And it was empty.

"No... No, no, no," he repeated to himself as he gripped his hair in his hands.

It looked like she had left in a hurry. There was scattered parchment on the floor; most likely knocked off. Her chair was balancing on the verge of toppling and there was a half-drunk cup of tea on her desk. Harry didn't need to check it; it smelt cold.

At least there was no blood.

The feeling of urgency, however, was still increasing.

"Harry..." gasped Megan as she came up beside him, "why... did you run off like that?"

Harry groaned as he madly scanned the corridor around him, trying to guess where Professor Sprout had gone. He vaguely registered that Hannah had followed him as well. "I need to find Professor Sprout. Now"

"Well, she's probably... waiting for -" Hannah gasped.

Harry spun around to face her. "What? Waiting for what?" he asked frantically. He saw a look of concern flash through his friend's eyes, but shrugged it off; she didn't know what was happening.

Heck, even _he_ didn't know what was happening. Part of him was even beginning to question his sanity at this point. All he knew what that there was some overwhelming... _feeling_... that he needed to find Professor Sprout.

He needed to find her. _Now_.

"Well," Hannah began hesitantly, "she's probably waiting for some Gryffindors that we overheard were going to try and get past Fluffy tonight."

Harry turned to look down the corridor towards the other side of the castle. Why would any student be crazy enough to try and get past Fluffy?

Was a student going to hurt Professor Sprout? That shadow...

Fluffy!

"_I will not let you go any further."_

"_Fool, you cannot stop me."_

That voice. He _knew_ that voice. He could recognise it, even without the stutter.

Harry's voice contorted in anger. "Quirrell," he growled as he took off running.

Before the girls could properly register the name of one of their professors being spoken with such malice, Harry was running again.

Not much about his environment registered with Harry as he ran. Not the passages, not the doorways and not the last moving staircase as it swung into position to provide Harry with access to the forbidden corridor. Not even as he almost knocked someone over while they waited for the staircase to move back to where it was previously.

There were more important things to worry about. Like the open door that was supposed to be locked.

Harry drew his wand and finally slowed down just inside the forbidden corridor. He didn't bother with lighting it as the sconces along the wall were lit this time. He took a moment to catch his breath though before he carefully jogged down towards the Fluffy's door.

"Harry, stop!"

He finally registered footsteps pounding behind him and knew that he had been followed again. He could see the door to Fluffy's room was open and was almost there...

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Without warning, Harry dropped his wand as his legs snapped together and his arms snapped to his sides. He stood there, wobbling for a second or two, before finally falling backwards, hitting his head on the stone floor. Reflexively, he made to cry out in pain when stars exploded in front of his eyes, but he quickly learned that he wasn't able to even grunt.

"What the hell... do you think... you're doing?" scolded Megan as she leaned over his head, hands on knees, gasping for breath.

She had her wand in her hand, so Harry could only assume that she had been the one to jinx him. He tried to answer, but the only thing he could move were his eyes, which didn't help with the corridor started twisting before them.

The petrification spell was eventually removed by Hannah and his hands immediately went to his head as he rolled over and groaned in pain.

"Harry!"

"Are you all right?"

"Oh, Gods! Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise..."

The piercing voices were quickly cut of and Harry felt a small pair of hands gently grab his head. Before he could ask what was happening, delicate figures positioned themselves within his hair, pressed into his scalp and... 'twisted in both directions at the same time' was the closest way that he could describe the motion (even if he knew that such a thing was impossible). Soon enough he felt a surge of soothing warmth fill his head.

Blinking his eyes open the corridor was thankfully still once again and the pain was gone, and with it the fingers. Harry slowly sat up and turned to face whoever it was that had helped him.

He blinked in surprise. "Su?"

It was the same girl that had taught him how to meditate. What was she doing here?

"The pain is only gone for a short time," she said, her voice soft but clear. "I have not been learning long enough to make it go away permanently."

"How..." Megan whispered, giving voice to the question forming on Harry's lips.

The Ravenclaw opened her mouth to respond, but looked torn about what to say. Eventually she smirked slightly. "A type of magic," she replied.

"Wow," commented Megan, "I've never seen a healer do anything like that before."

Her stunned expression didn't last long, though, as she angrily turned towards Harry.

"And _you!_ What do you think you're doing running though the school like a mad man on fire? And into the forbidden corridor as well!"

Harry's eyes bulged. "Professor Sprout!"

Scrambling, he grabbed his fallen wand and made to stand up only to be surprised to see Hannah holding her visibly shaking wand on him. Glancing at Megan, she too had her wand still in hand.

"Harry, I don't want to have to jinx you again, but you're scaring me. Can you _please_ tell us why you're trying to get yourself eaten by Fluffy," Hannah pleaded.

"Professor Sprout. She's hurt, I know it. We have to help her."

"Harry, you-" Hannah broke off her rebuke as Harry's words clicked home with her. Harry _Knew_. "You... you _know_?"

"Yes! She's hurt!"

Hannah hesitated only for a moment while Megan looked at her in confusion, but it was enough time to allow Su's pained voice to sound down the corridor.

"Come, quick!" she called.

The group of Hufflepuffs froze at sound, before turning as one to the spot where the lone ravenclaw had been.

Only she wasn't there any more.

Turning back towards Fluffy's door, Harry saw her sliding down the wall next to Fluffy's door she had her eyes clenched shut and was currently wrapping her arms tightly around herself, as if warding off a bad chill. Obviously, the inquisitive ravenclaw had slipped away from them and decided to check out the open door; but what had she seen to make her react like so?

Making the most of the momentarily stunned nature of his friends, Harry sprang from where he was seated and dashed passed his house-mates.

Upon reaching the doorway, Harry stumbled in shock. Fluffy, the three headed dog that had chased them out of this very room earlier in the year, lay dead. His body skewered by massive silver spikes and his blood slowly spreading out in a large pool.

Shaking himself from his shock, he glanced around the room and spotted off to the side what he had hoped he wouldn't. Professor Sprout, laying in the pool of blood.

"Oh, Merlin," someone groaned behind him while Harry made his way around the fallen guardian. The sound of someone vomiting soon reached his ears.

"Is... Is she..." Megan couldn't bring herself to finish the question from the doorway. As it was, she couldn't stop shaking at the sight.

"She's alive, but she looks bad," Harry replied worriedly as he crouched down and heard a gurgling sound as her chest slowly rose and fell. There was so much blood he didn't know what was hers or what was Fluffy's. He looked desperately towards Megan, his mind still reeling from the shock of seeing his Head of House like this, "I don't know what to do to help her. She needs Madam Pomfrey."

~oOo~

Megan glanced around herself. Harry was crouching next the broken body of their Head of House, Hannah was trying to not to lose the rest of her dinner and the girl from Ravenclaw was still sitting there with here eyes closed muttering in something that clearly wasn't English.

Didn't Harry call her Sue? Since when were there two Suzans in their year? Or was she just a rather short second-year?

"Hannah," she called out, "we need Madam Pomfrey. Go to the Hospital Wing and tell her what's happened."

Hannah grimaced as she spat out the taste of bile before nodding and taking off to fetch the school's resident healer, all the while carefully avoiding having to look inside the room again.

Turning to the ravenclaw, Megan thought of another thing that needed doing. Someone had killed Fluffy and hurt Professor Sprout, meaning that they were probably trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. Somebody needed to tell a professor.

"Sue. Sue!" Megan snapped her fingers in front of the unresponsive girl, causing her to jump and open her eyes. Megan couldn't help but notice how shaken they seemed.

"You need to find a professor, _any_ professor. Tell them... tell them..." Tell them what? She didn't know much herself. "Tell them what has happened here. And tell them that that the trapdoor is open."

Megan blinked at her own voice. The trapdoor was open? Quickly poking her head back in the room she confirmed that she hadn't been imagining things and the trapdoor was in fact open... and Harry was jumping down!

"Harry! NO!"

~oOo~

Harry pulled his gaze away from Megan and back to Sprout. He had found her, but that sense of urgency was still there. And he now had actual proof that he wasn't going crazy; that he was in fact doing some sort of wacky divination thing.

And boy did Fluffy _really_ need a bath. Not that it would do him much good now...

"_My God, that thing smells worse than week old socks"_

Harry frowned as the smell of a smelly (and now dead) cerberus was replaced with the smell of Zach's shoes. Why did the memory of Zach's shoes pick now, of all times, to force its was into his mind?

"_It's grabbing me!"_

_Fire._

"_There was only enough for one"_

_Blood._

"_Useless boy!"_

_Death._

Harry groaned quietly as his eyes slid over to the open trapdoor; he recognised another voice. Hermione Granger. She was down there, along with... Longbottom? Harry scowled. He was beginning to understand the animosity Megan had for the general lack of common sense that the gryffindors of their year seemed to share.

But still, Harry thought as he made his way to the trapdoor, the blood made sense as he could see pouring down the trapdoor into darkness, but _fire? death?_ Looking down the trapdoor, he saw... Darkness. A cold chill ran down his spine causing him to close his eyes and take a cleansing breath at that chilling thought.

Just as Su had taught him; in through the nose and out through the-

His eyes snapped open mid-breath as he caught the mental image of Longbottom being tossed through the air. He groaned again and gave into the need to roll his eyes. Somebody was going to have to get down there and stop them from getting themselves killed.

Accepting the inevitable, he jumped down the trapdoor.

"Har-"

Harry landed with a frown on something soft and he looked up wondering why Megan's call had suddenly been cut off. The frown deepened when he couldn't see the light of the room above (he could have sworn he hadn't fallen _that_ far).

"Megan?" he called out.

There was no reply. He was just about to cast the Lumos spell to see how deep the trapdoor was when he heard a squeal coming from above him, causing him to look up.

"Ompf."

"Oww," Harry groaned. That was the second time tonight that his head had impacted something.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

"Ever heard of looking before you leap?" Harry groused as he rubbed his again aching head.

"Ha! Says the boy who jumped first. And I _did_ look... I just couldn't see you," Megan's voice trailed off as she realised how lame that argument sounded.

"So you decided to follow?" he queried. "Didn't you hear me call you?"

"What? No, did you hea-argh!"

"Megan?" Harry called out into the darkness at Megan's scream.

"There something down here!" Megan cried. "_Lumos!_"

By the light of Megan's wand tip, Harry saw just what it was that had made his landing so soft: Devil's Snare, and it had already wrapped itself around his legs.

He snapped his head up to where Megan was standing amongst the vines. "Megan, don't move!" he called out, a part of his brain remembering having read that Devil's Snare could sense movement.

His friend wasn't listening to him, though, and she wildly moved around, trying to find somewhere safe amongst the deadly moving plant. His eyes widened when he saw her begin to back up to where the vines had tried to grow up and out of the trapdoor.

"MEGAN! STOP!"

Megan continued to back up and screamed once more while Harry watched in horror as the vines moved from the wall and began to wrap around her. With his heart pounding in the realisation that he had may have lead them both to their deaths, Harry's mind kicked into overdrive as he desperately tried to remember what the book that he had read had said about how to evade Devil's Snare.

Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare. How did you stop Devil's Snare his mind repeated over and over again.

He knew it was a plant that was unique in how it thrived in the darkness and hid from the sunlight. He knew that it was a carnivorous plant, and chose to pull its victims beneath the soil where it's roots could burrow into the body. It was a very dangerous plant, one that they wouldn't be studying in detail for another few years. It was... it was...

Harry blinked.

It was a plant. Plants burned.

_Fire!_

He had seen Tonks light a fire once with her wand. What was the spell she had used? Incidi... insensi... _Oh Crap! _ Where was his wand?

Harry did his best to look around him without moving, using only the faint light given off by Megan's flickering wand (so long as she was still making some sort of noise, she was okay, he mentally tolk himself). He had had it in his hand a moment ago... then Megan landed on him... he had fallen down... his right arm had fallen outwards...

There!

Off to the side was his wand, a pale grey amongst the dark green of the vines. Realising that he would likely only get one shot at this, he twisted around as best he could (he did have Devil's Snare wrapped around his legs, after all) and flung his torso across the vines, his arm reaching out, hand grasping at his wand, fingers closing... around vine.

Crap.

He was too short.

Desperately, he tried to pull himself over the vine, closer to his wand. He still couldn't remember which spell Tonks had used, but without his wand it would be useless information anyway. He knew moving was stupid, but Megan was panicking so it was up to him to get them out of here; so he pulled, he kicked, he tugged, he squirmed, all actions he wanted Megan to not do.

With each twitch of muscle, he felt more vines wrap around him, his legs, his arms, his torso, and (even worse) his head and neck. He felt them tighten and he could feel his lungs begin to burn as the vines began to constrict him.

On the edge of his mind, he registered that Megan's wand-light had failed, but he could still see his own wand a half-foot away from his hand, almost as if it were mocking him, sitting there glowing amongst the darkness.

The glow of his wand was slowly replaced with black splotches and the burning in his lungs began intensifying. Realisation sluggishly dawned on him. He was suffocating. He couldn't breath and his lungs were on fire from the sensation. He felt panic bubble within him and he clenched his eyes shut at the sensation of the burning feeling seeping out of his lungs and into his blood and muscles.

It burned. Oh God, it burned so much, it almost felt like he was burning from the inside out!

~oOo~

Megan struggled against the vines that had wrapped themselves around her as they tried to drag her to the ground. She cried out to Harry to help her, but he didn't. Dear Merlin, she didn't want to die. Not here. Not like this. Not in the Dark.

She let out a desperate cry as her wand fell from her grasp causing the room they were in to be plunged into darkness. Almost immediately, more vines moved in on her and she could feel them coil around her, trying to drag her down below them. Oh Gods, she mentally cried out, she was too young to die.

It was then that it happened.

It started out with the hairs on the back of neck all standing on end and a subtle glow that came from somewhere behind her and allowed her to see the wall before her. It seem that she had been turned around in her struggling. The glow stayed that way for a few moments, in which the vines stilled. Then, quicker than she could slam her eyes shut, intense light burst forth causing the plant to begin writhe around her. Even with her eyes closed, she could still clearly see its brightness through her eyelids.

She wasn't sure how long it was before the light faded, but when it did she realised that the vines were no longer moving and... Gods, she gagged at the stench. It smelled like somebody had burned cabbage. Pushing and pulling at the vines around her, she was surprised to see them break away easily.

Quickly freeing herself, she started feeling around. As soon as her wand was in her hand, the tip was glowing with another Lumos spell and Megan was blinking the spots out of her vision so she could look around.

The plant, vine, whatever it was... was dead, or at least it _looked _dead. And there, on a bare patch of burnt ground, was Harry... lying there... not moving...

Rapidly making her way to him, she let out a laugh of relief as a groan escaped him before helping him to sit up.

"What happened?" he asked in a daze as he swayed there and looked around the room.

Megan told him what she had seen of the mysterious light and how it had seemed to kill the plant; all the while frowning at the burnt ground around Harry. It didn't take much to convince her that Harry had done something to the plant. But how could he not know what he had done? Was it some type of accidental magic?

Well, whatever it was, it seemed to have taken a toll on him judging by how he was swaying on the spot.

Dragging her thoughts and gaze back to Harry, in the here and now, she noticed that he once again had a blank expression on his face while he stared over towards a low tunnel in one corner of the room. She was about to give him a friendly slap to wake him up when he seemed to snap out of it and began making his way towards the tunnel.

"Harry, you idiot," Megan called out, "whoever attacked Professor Sprout is probably down there!"

"I know he is," Harry replied with a grim voice. "So are some wayward Gryffindors."

Megan stared after him for a moment. What the hell was he talking about?

~oOo~

Hedwig awoke with a squawk. Ruffling her feathers in irritation she eyed the perches around her, looking for the bird that had dared to wake her. Not seeing any, she settled back down again to sleep. Her charge was _safe_ in his underground nest, so there was no reason why she shouldn't rest as well, even if she did have to do it amongst these annoying pigeons.

It had taken a fair bit of work, but she had eventually been able to dominate the majority of the lowly mail carriers. Most had been resistant at first, thinking of her and her parliament to be nothing but common wild owls that weren't worthy of doing the bidding of the magic users. She had soon shown them, though. Her training had ensured that she was able to take on any that dared to say that to her face. She wasn't some lazy mail carrier, she was a trained _watcher!_

Just as she was drifting off again, a jolt ran through her feet causing her to jump off her perch with a startled squawk. That had never happened before.

Tentatively, she lowered herself onto another perch. She wasn't sure what had just happened but she definitely didn't want it to happen again. Closing her eyes she, again, settled back down for some rest. As if on queue, another jolt ran through her feet causing her to take to the air one more time.

Now she was thoroughly confused. Why would the perches be trying to prevent her from getting any sleep? It made no sense; perches weren't supposed to do that, they were supposed to just sit there, waiting to be used.

She flew a couple of slow circles around the owlery, glaring at the perches that seemed to be denying her her rest. It was almost as though they were doing it on purpose, if such a thing was even possible. But that didn't make sense as there was really only ever one reason why she would need to forsake sleep.

It was that lone thought that made Hedwig freeze in mid-flight, causing her to almost crash into the owlery wall before she caught herself. With a determined flap of her wings, she twisted hard to the right and rolled out the nearest window.

Click-click-hoot and Brill-hic were scouting the path back to Surrey. Hic-hic-twill and Twoo-twick were off hunting. She was all on her own... and her charge was in danger.

~oOo~

"Tell me again, why are we're doing this?" Megan complained as she wiped... _something_ off of her hand. They had been crawling through this tunnel for a while now and she couldn't see the end to it.

"You didn't have to follow, you know."

Megan snorted. "Harry, when are you going to learn? Hufflepuffs stick together."

"Certainly didn't look that way earlier," he murmured quietly

Megan cringed at the edge of coldness in his voice. She had only really seen Harry angry once before and she couldn't help but feel ashamed at being the cause of it that time as well.

"I really am sorry, Harry," she replied quietly. Is was loud enough for the small tunnel though. "You have to admit, though, that it looked to us like you had gone stark raving mad. If you'd just told us before you ran off like that then we probably wouldn't have reacted that way."

Harry stopped in front of her and he saw him lower his head. Even though she couldn't see them, she could tell that he had his gorg... e_yes!_ His _eyes_ closed. There was nothing, _nothing_, gorge... pret... hans... grrr! Nothing... _special _about Harry's eyes. _Nothing_ _at all._ Well, nothing except for the fact that they looked a hell of a lot better than her's.

A rogue, worrying thought violently bounced around her mind before she could shake it off. Harry truly didn't have any type of veela thing going on; right?

"It's... it's... _complicated_, okay?" he said finally. "I... just... _know_ things; you know? Hannah said it was Divination. But... I don't know any more. I mean, Divination is about knowing something that is yet to happen. But... Professor Sprout... I think I knewthat _after_ it happened.

"Come on, I think I can see the exit up ahead."

Megan blinked at her friend as he moved onwards. Divination. That was just... wow. She hadn't been expecting that answer. Yet, she guessed that it did explain a few odd things about her friend. Following behind him, there was indeed an exit, even if Megan couldn't see it until she was almost through it.

Exiting, they emerged into a large cavern with a lone door at the other end.

"What's that noise?" Megan asked before looking up. "_Merlin_," she whispered. "How did they get all those birds down here?"

Harry wasn't interested in the birds and was already trying to open a door that was in the room. Running up to join him, she was just in time to hear him growl at the door.

"Locked."

"Have you tried the unlocking charm?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, okay. No need to get snippy. If the gryffindors _are_ down here already then there has to be some way to open it," she responded as she cast her eyes over the room.

Something caught her eye and she moved to investigate.

"Um, Harry? Take a look at this."

Harry joined her and she showed him what she had found. A broomstick. A broken broomstick.

"A broomstick?" he queried. "Well this room is certainly big enough to fly in."

Looking up, Harry was the first to make the connection. "Keys. They're not birds, they're keys!"

"Look!" Megan called excitedly. "Over there, there's one with a broken wing that looks different. That has to be the key to the door."

"See if you can find another broomstick," Harry ordered as he began looking as well.

It turned out that they were out of luck; the only broomstick that was in the room was the broken one. It seemed that whoever was the last one though here had taken any other broomsticks with them.

"Stupid, bloody gryffindors," Megan groused.

"Why would someone leave broomsticks lying around anyway?" Harry asked. "I mean, it's a bit stupid don't you think? Especially when the key is right up there."

Megan raised an eyebrow at that thought. "More to the point, why is the key flying around up there. Locking a door and then leaving the key to unlock it next to the door _is_ pretty dumb."

She saw Harry nod in contemplation at her comment as she made her way back to the door. There _had_ to be another way to open it.

"Harry? When you guys came across Fluffy that first time, you said that Peeves unlocked the door?"

"Yeah," he called out. Megan looked over his shoulder to see him still trying to work out how to get the key. "How did he do it again?"

"He stuck his hand in the lock and did... something... I don't know really, but I doubt we can just jam our hand in a lock like he can."

"Hmm. Well, can we remove the lock?"

"Maybe, I mean it would depend on the type of..." Harry's voice drifted off and Megan began to worry if he was having another... episode.

Just as she was about to go over and shake him back to reality, Harry came bounding over to join her at the door. She could see the excitement in his eyes and it made her curious as to what he had just thought of.

"Last year," he began as he began examining the edge of the door, "my cousin broke the door to his room. My Uncle made me help to replace it and I learned something interesting about doors."

Megan was a bit confused as to why Harry would have to help replace a door that his cousin broke and was about to ask him when she saw him point his wand at a point above him.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," he intoned with the necessary swish and flick.

Megan blinked at the odd choice of spell yet she clearly heard a scraping sound followed by the tinkling of metal falling to the floor. Harry turned around to face her with a million-galleon grin on his face.

"Hinge pins aren't fixed in place. They just sit in the hinges."

Megan had no idea what a hinge pin was, but she watch as Harry repeated the process two more times before stepping back from the door.

"Now what?" she asked.

"This," Harry replied before charging at the door, ramming one of his shoulders into it.

There was an almighty crash as the door spun out of the doorway and landed on the floor, along with Harry.

"Harry!" she yelled as she ran up to her fallen friend.

"Ow," Harry groaned as he sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Remind me never to do that again."

"You prat!" she scolded as she hit him on his other shoulder.

"Hey! I got it open didn't I?"

She chose not to dignify that particular question with an answer. Instead she chose to examine a small brass object that was lying next to Harry.

"So this is hinge pin?"

"Yeah, I... ah... um, Megan? Why is there a giant chess set under the castle?"

"I have no idea," Megan replied slowly as she too took in the view of the seven-foot high chess pieces.

"I wonder if he does"

Megan turned to where Harry was pointing and spotted someone lying off to the side of the chess set. She joined him in taking a closer look.

"Urgh, why did it have to be him?" she complained.

"I know. I wonder what he's doing here, though. I thought it was just Granger and Longbottom

"Oy, Weasley!" Harry yelled and gave a slap the red-haired nuisance's face. It didn't help though, the boy was out cold.

"What are you two doing here?"

The two Hufflepuffs spun around at the new voice. Hermione Granger was standing in a doorway at the other side of the giant chess board, looking at them with a very surprised expression.

"Looking for you, apparently," Megan called out to her.

The young Gryffindor stepped onto the board to approach them, only to squeal and duck as one of the black bishops swung its mace at her. The king next to it joined in and struck out with its sword, causing the young girl to seek refuge back from the doorway.

"Oh no, I'm useless at chess," she bemoaned.

Megan was amazed, Miss I-Know-Everything admitting that she couldn't do something?

"Since when do chess pieces try to take someone's head off?"

Harry's bewildered voice brought her back to reality and was about to answer when Miss I-Know-Everything bet her to it.

"It's called Wizard's Chess. The chess pieces are enchanted to attack when they take one of the opposing pieces. It's completely barbaric if you ask me. Anyway, this is of Professor McGonagall's making and you need to play your way across the board to get to the other side and now it looks like I'm going to be stuck here because I just can't play chess like Ronald can."

Megan could only blink as she realised that Granger had said that all in breath. That girl really had a set of lungs on her. What she had said soon caught up with her though.

"Wait, you're saying we have _play_ our way across the board?"

"Yes, that's what I _just said_," the gryffindor huffed back at her. "I never would have thought that Ronald was a master chess player if I hadn't seen it for myself. He even went and defeated McGonagall's own chess set. However, the fool went and let himself get knocked out just so we could get through; and now I have to wait for Neville so we can try and play our way out. I only hope that he manages to stop Professor Snape."

"It's not Snape," Harry mumbled.

Megan turned to her friend and her eyes widened when she saw that he was holding his head and swaying slightly. That couldn't be a good thing.

"Harry?"

"It wasn't Snape that attacked Professor Sprout," he said louder before wincing.

"It's wearing off, isn't it? What Sue did..." she asked as she felt like kicking herself at the thought of what she did to him earlier.

Harry nodded as Hermione responded to Harry's comment. "Of course, it's Professor Snape that's down here. We heard him trying to force Quirrell to tell him how to get down here. And what do you mean he attacked Professor Sprout?"

Megan felt a touch of anger bubble in her. She knew that she was guilty of not believing Harry, but Granger would have at least had to have seen that the Herbology Professor had been attacked.

"Do you mean to say," she began as she narrowed her eyes at the Gryffindor, "that you didn't even notice Professor Sprout lying hurt next to Fluffy?"

"What?"

The anger bubbled more. "Professor Sprout. You know, your Herbology professor. She was waiting up there to stop you from coming down here. Only someone got there before you did and they attacked her and left her up there to die, like Fluffy!"

She was yelling by the time she had finished and couldn't help but feel better when she saw the girl before her pale.

"But, but... but Fluffy was _gone_. There was nothing in the room."

Megan's eyes narrowed in her anger, as she tried to determine if the girl was lying. She knew it was possible to hid things from people, or make people not notice them, but that wouldn't explain why she and the others could see them. In order to see something that isn't noticeable, you had to know what it was and where it was.

Her breath caught in her throat as the answer hid her in the gut. Harry. Harry had known.

"Longbottom," came a strangled gasp beside her.

Spinning around, she saw Harry was now doubled over with his eyes clenched shut and one hand still clasping his head.

"Harry! Are you okay?"

Megan almost hit herself. Of course he wasn't okay!

Harry waved her off. "Longbottom's in trouble. I need to get to him," he continued as he finally started to relax.

Megan was torn about letting him continue. He was looking pale and she knew that his head was troubling him again. Whatever it was that had happened when she petrified him must have been bad.

"Please," he whispered to her. "You have to believe me."

"Okay, okay," she relented, Harry had already more than proven himself tonight. "Any idea how to get past this, though?" she indicated the chess set behind her.

Harry nodded as he stood up straighter. "McGonagall."

"Huh? McGonagall made it, I know, that's what Granger said."

"The first lesson she ever taught me. Never try shrinking an expanded trunk because of the enchantment it has on the inside of it; she called it... um, the principle of... contradictions? No... um, well something like that, anyway. Apparently if I tried to shrink my trunk, it would-"

"Spill out its contents! Of course! It happens all the time with rookie handlers in quidditch teams."

"So all we need to do it work out what contradicts a Wizard's Chess set"

"I don't know, Harry," Granger commented from her refuge in the opposite doorway, "I've never read about such a rule. I mean, surely even if such a thing existed, Professor McGonagall would have already thought of that when she made this."

Megan could have almost strangled Hermione at that point. The girl just couldn't seem to accept that people may know things that she didn't.

"Hermione," Harry called out across the board, "do you know any spell that can make them not move?"

Megan looked at her friend in shock. He asked _Granger?_ Sure, the girl could be a walking textbook at times, but which witch had been raised around magic? Certainly not that one!

"Yes, it's call the Immobilisation Charm, the incantation is 'Imobulus' and uses a standard Half-right Twisted Counter-flick. Bur I already tried that before we had to play our way across. As I said, Professor McGonagall has already thought of these things."

Megan closed her eyes at the condescending tone. It simply amazed her that nobody had gone and jinxed her for it.

Jinxed.

Megan cringed as an idea struck her. Dammit, how many times did she have to say she was sorry. The chess pieces were statues that were enchanted to be human-like. Therefore opposite would have to be to bewitch them into being humans ensorcelled to be statue-like.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she muttered, before pointing her wand at the nearest chess piece. "_Petrificus Totalus_"

The arms and legs of the bishop snapped together like she hopped they would but instead of falling over, like she had expected, it began to struggle against the petrification jinx. At first she thought that it was going to break free, but soon the three first-years stared at the piece in growing disbelief as it began shuddering and shaking. Cracks began to form on the piece as the shaking got more and more violent. Finally the piece shattered apart, forming a pile of rubble on its square.

Wow, that actually _worked?_ she thought to herself in amazement.

The other chess pieces looked murderous at the sight of their fallen comrade, but seemed to be prevented from advancing on them because of the rules of the game. Taking up the advantage, the two hufflepuffs quickly cleared a path across the chess board.

"No, no, _no!_ That's not possible," the lone gryffindor ranted. "That spell is only for use on people. The books say that it _only works on humans!_ Not animals, not birds, and most definitely not _chess pieces_! What you did was impossible! The spellbooks say it's _impossible_!"

Megan watched the pacing gryffindor warily. "Well, at least I now know why you never made it into Ravenclaw."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Granger yelled as she rounded on Megan, causing her to take a step back.

"Well, it's like my Nana always says: there's much more to magic than books and spells."

Both Megan and Harry winced at the volume of Granger's reply, "But magic _is_ books and spells!"

Edging herself around the girl, Megan dragged Harry down the new corridor. "Come on, Harry. There's still another wayward gryffindor to rescue," she said, only to add much quieter, "though I do wonder whether we should."

"There's no point," the raging girl called out as she ran to catch up with the two Hufflepuffs. "You won't be able to get past the last protection."

* * *

**A/N:** Just a little comment about how they got past the chess set. I mentioned in a note on one of the earlier chapters that I added a few extra rules of magic to make things a bit more interesting (seeing the same things over and over again in fan fiction gets a bit boring for me).

One of these rules is a big one (and is also likely canon in a logical way): It is impossible for something to be a paradox. I.e. Something cannot be two opposing things at the same time. Like left and right, or up and down, big and small, person-like statue and statue-like person. If you try to dos this then the magic tries to avoid the impossible, sometimes violently.


End file.
